Speared Through The Heart
by LittleGee
Summary: Savannah didn't want help. Alone is all she'd ever been. But when she's called up from NXT to the main roster in April 2013, she meets three people who could show her that she doesn't need to go it alone anymore. But when betrayal forces her hand, which side will she choose? Surviving is what she's best at, but soon she wonders if this choice is something even she can fight out of.
1. Pretty Little Psycho

**A/N- Wassap, WWE Universe? So, I'd originally planned not to upload this till I finished my _Neighbours_ fic, but honestly, I didn't want to wait any longer !The entire point of this fic is that it's kayfabe-compliant. That is, I'm treating storylines as actual events, ring names will be used as real names etc. It's probably been done before, but this is my take. The rating could change up to M, I haven't really decided yet. So yeah, I hope you enjoy. I just want to give a big shout-out and thanks to Starfire Tamaran, who really inspired me to write this and helped me out with some great ideas! Girl, you rock!**

* * *

 **Chapter One- Pretty Little Psycho**

* * *

 _ **~Now~**_  
 _ **~Monday Night Raw, April 20th 2015~**_

* * *

My hands shook as the man standing in front of me took them in his own. As I looked into his cold brown eyes, my legs also began to shake under my wedding dress skirts. Makes me sound like the typical blushing bride, right? You could not be more wrong. I wasn't excited. I wasn't nervous. I didn't have butterflies. I was absolutely fucking terrified.

I broke our eye contact almost immediately, instead choosing to look at the minister who was standing with us in the ring, under this stupid white filigree-covered arch. He looked uncomfortable. So he should, I couldn't have been making it more obvious that I wanted to be anywhere but here. I looked at him with wide, pleading eyes – eyes that cried 'help me' – but what could he do? Nothing. Not with Stephanie and Triple H ringside, watching our every move.

So all he could do was clear his throat and move on to the final part of the ceremony, addressing my husband-to-be first. "Do you, Seth Daniel Rollins, take Savannah Rose Jordan to be your wife? To protect her in friendship, love and possession, in all your strength and success, to love her faithfully, today, tomorrow, and for as long as the two of you shall live?" Great to know The Authority had been kind enough to write the vows for us.

Seth grinned down at me, but it wasn't an 'I can't believe this is happening,' happy, loving grin, because Seth didn't love me. He never had. No, this was a grin that was, quite plainly, devilishly victorious. He'd won, and he knew it. He dropped one of my hands and brushed a tendril of ginger hair that had escaped from my up-do behind my ear, letting his finger trail down my jawline as he said, "I do."

I had to steel myself from physically cringing away from his touch, fighting the urge to burst into tears as he took my hand back. The only person I had to blame for this was myself. I'd agreed to it all, just to keep the two people I had held closest to me safe. For months, I'd stood in this ring and uttered the words, "I love you," to Seth more times than I could count, and he'd said them back. I'd portrayed the typical girl completely head over heels in love perfectly, and it had backfired miserably on me.

The minister turned his attention to me and repeated the vows, though mine had been suitably reworded. "And do you, Savannah Rose Jordan, take Seth Daniel Rollins to be your husband? To worship him in friendship and love, in strength and your weaknesses, to love him faithfully and unconditionally, and to obey him today, tomorrow, and for as long as the two of you shall live?"

Spot the difference in equality there.

I swallowed, my mouth going dry. "I…I…um…" I stuttered, desperately trying to force the words out of my mouth. Seth increased the grip he had on my hands, and stared at me with a coercing expression. "I- I d-"

A sudden crashing noise echoed from behind the LED board, and a deep voice shouted out, "Stop! Stop everything! Red, baby girl, don't do this!"

My mouth dropped open as both Seth and I sharply turned our heads to the source of the shouting. My knees almost buckled with relief when I saw him there. My Samoan Superman in SWAT gear was running towards us. I let go of Seth almost immediately, gathering my skirts up in one of my hands and getting ready to run.

"Roman!" I screamed, taking two steps forward, about to flat-out suicide dive out of the ring into his arms, but I was too slow. Seth grabbed my wrist and jerked me back to his side, causing me to stumble down to my knees. He knelt down to my level and got right in my face, twisting my wrist so painfully that I cried out in shock.

"Shut up!" he hissed. "You're going through with this, Sav! You're mine now, okay!? You belong to me! Not Reigns!"

Tears began to pour down my face as I whimpered, "Let go of me! Please, Seth, you're hurting me! I'm sorry!" I was disgusted with myself. A year ago, I wouldn't have taken all of Seth's shit that left me a sobbing, quivering wreck. The me from a year ago would have scissor-kicked him in the face, screamed a few choice expletives at him and ran.

But of course, a lot of fucked up stuff had happened over the last year…actually, over the last two years that had led me to be in this position in the first place. Fucked up stuff that had brought me to a point in my life where my fiancé stood over me, practically trying to break my arm as my ex-boyfriend remained outside the ring, fighting off Seth's little Hobbit security guards stopping him from getting in here and snapping Seth's spine.

You know what? It's probably going to be a lot easier if I just go back to the beginning and tell you everything. Reader discretion, though. This ain't no fairytale; it's fucking nightmare.

* * *

 _ **~ Two Years Earlier ~  
**_ _ **~ March 2013 ~**_

* * *

 _ **SavvyAsHellWWE: I came here to kick ass and look like bubblegum. Wait, that's not right… #**_ _ **R**_ _ **ing**_ _ **G**_ _ **ear**_ _ **P**_ _ **roblems  
**_ _ **Tweeted 03/19/13 13.43PM**_

"Paige is completely dominating Savannah right now; it doesn't even look like Savannah can stand. Paige now pulling her into a standing position, she's going for the Paige-Turner- wait! Wait, Savannah's overpowering! Delivering a series of sharp kicks to the backs of Paige's knees! No, no, she has Paige on the floor, she's going for the Texas Chainsaw! She's got Paige by the arms, can she get it locked in? …Yes, yes, Savannah has it! Will she get Paige to tap out? Paige is struggling but Savannah's got the Chainsaw locked tight! And- and- and Paige has gotta tap out!"

I unwrapped my legs from around Paige's neck and released her from my Texas Chainsaw - my name for my signature submission move, the lotus lock – as the referee pulled me into a standing position and raised my arm as it was announced, "Here she is, your winner by submission: _Savannah_!"

As my music played out, I pulled a military salute at the crowd - who booed me back. I smirked. It was no secret that I loved being the biggest bitch in NXT, the developmental wing of WWE. It came naturally to me. I flicked my long red hair behind me and blew a kiss down at Paige, who just let out a frustrated scream and punched the mat.

I adjusted my shorts so they were sitting on my hips and climbed to the top rope, jumping down on to my hands and crouching into a tuck and roll towards the ramp. I turned around and mockingly waved back towards the ring, trying not to trip over my own feet as I walked backwards. Paige was standing in the ring, yelling at me. She wasn't happy; for nearly the entire match she'd been throwing me around the ring like a rag doll, but I'd just been able to summon up enough strength to overpower her at the last minute. I pouted back at her and trailed a finger down my cheek to signify a tear, before letting out a bark of laughter.

"LET ME HEAR YOUR WAR CRY!" I screamed along with my music. It was my tag line. You know, the thing I'd have printed on t-shirts and sweatpants if I had merchandise under my name. If. It was what I was all about; I brought the war to the ring, and I won the battle. I was a one woman army, hellbent on being the top Diva.

I took a sarcastic bow, ducking so low that my hair swept the floor, before blowing another kiss, now to the still-booing audience and disappearing backstage. The second I was back there, I collapsed against the wall, breathing heavily.

Jesus H. Christ, that match had taken it out of me. I'd been in developmental for just over two years, since January 2011, when it was still known as FCW. I'd made my TV debut on FCW TV in August 2011, performing as Savannah Rose, my Indy ring-name. I'd never bothered adding in my last name. It just seemed like too much of a mouthful. FCW was making the transition to just being NXT full-time when I switched from Savannah Rose to deciding I did want to perform as Savannah Jordan. It was also when I really took off as a performer to watch.

But now I was starting to wonder if I was going anywhere else. I'd done my two years; why wasn't I getting called up to the main roster? I was good enough. I proved that week after week. I'd just gotten Paige to tap out, for God's sake. She was probably one of the most powerful female wrestlers currently in NXT. I'd lost to her a couple of times, I'll admit that. But it was now mid-March. I needed to move up. Move up or move out. I mean, I was twenty-five years old and competing against some girls that were four, five, six years younger than me, for crying out loud.

I brushed my hair out of my eyes, took a gulp of water out of the bottle that was lying on top of an electrical equipment trunk and headed off to the locker room to get changed and go home. I needed a bubble bath and a power-nap, followed by curling up in bed with an episode of _American Horror Story_ on Netflix. I had bruises forming in the worst places.

The locker room was basically empty when I arrived, which was just how I liked it. I couldn't be bothered to sit around listening to all those bitches…well, bitching. None of them really liked me, and honestly, I didn't like any of them. The idea of attempting to be friends with any of them was about as pleasant a thought as root canal surgery. They weren't going to help me become Divas Champion when I – eventually – moved up to the main roster, were they? No. Only one girl could hold that belt.

I tied my hair back in a messy ponytail, not bothering to brush it, washed off the white face-painted stripe across my cheeks that served as my 'war paint' and stripped out of the elasticated pink crop top, purple shorts, black knee-high socks and white boots I wore as my signature look, finally freeing the use of my lungs. Well, I looked adorable, there was no denying. It was my way of lulling my opponents into a false sense of security: I danced my way down to the ring dressed like a wad of bubblegum, and then I kicked their ass into the ground.

I loved my gear, don't get me wrong, but the tops did start to get a little uncomfortable after rolling around in the ring for a while. I was really more of a camisole-skinny-jeans-cardigan kind of girl, which was exactly what I changed into now: an ombre-effect pink and purple cami, pink jeans, black cardigan and grey ankle boots. Lost in a kind of trance, I trailed my finger over the tattoo of a vine of roses that covered the entire right side of my torso. It started from the top of my shoulder, then snaked down my ribs and curled round to my stomach, where it met up with the long-healed scar that marred my lower abdomen. I then took my time carefully re-applying a thick layer of foundation to that scar. No one wanted to see that, least of all me. It revolted me. Keeping it hidden was the best thing I could do.

I threw the rest of my stuff into my cute _Lilo and Stitch_ tote bag, slicked on some berry-coloured lipstick and I was good to go. I strode purposefully out of the building, acknowledging the various stagehands, Superstars and Divas I passed with a nod, occasionally saying, "Bye," if I found them someway likable.

Emerging into the Florida sunshine immediately had me pulling off my cardigan. I'd been living in Florida for three years, since I was twenty-two. I'd been in Tampa whilst I was part of FCW, and now I resided comfortably in Winter Park. After growing up in the borderline-tropical climate of Dallas, Texas - my hometown - I'd expected Florida to be as freezing cold as the North Pole. I'd been pleasantly surprised to step off the plane and find myself in ninety degree heat. Then cursed at the sky as I struggled to remove my trench coat, cardigan and sweater before I died of heatstroke.

I never got homesick, though. As far as I was concerned, I could stay out of Dallas for the rest of my life. Hell, I could stay out of the entire state of fucking _Texas_ for all I cared. I knew that wasn't going to happen, since when the time came for me to move up, I'd be travelling around the whole of the USA. There was no doubt I'd end up back in Texas at some point. I just hoped this was going to be in the very far future. It was still too soon...

It was always going to be too soon.

* * *

The parking lot was fenced off so no crazy fans could jump in and attempt to steal our cars or underwear to sell on eBay. A lot of the fans still hung around after the tapings, standing by the fences to get a glimpse of someone. Quite a few were still here now, and as I moved within their eye-range they began to cheer. Well, kind of.

"Sa-va-nnah! Sa-va-nnah!"

"Let's go, Jordan, let's go!"

"Let me hear your war cry! Yeah!"

But of course, not all the calls were going to be positive.

"Savannah sucks! Savannah sucks!"

"You're a bitch!"

And the obligatory, "You can't wrestle!" *five claps* "You can't wrestle!"

Still, sticks and stones and all that. I just waved and smiled at everyone that was there, enjoying the cheers and whoops I got back and tuning out the boos. Some fans didn't like me, I got that. I wasn't exactly a nice person, and that was going to come across on TV. Not that I cared, mind. Any reception at all was positive reception, as far as I was concerned. The fans still came to watch me wrestle and they still stood chanting my name. I always said there was a fine line between love and hate, and this was definitely the case with the kind of person I was. Everyone loved to hate me.

I located my classic black 1965 convertible Mustang (all-American girl over here) pretty quickly, having deliberately parked between a bright blue Mini Cooper and a yellow Jeep. I dumped my bag in the passenger side and stuck my key in the ignition, turning on the engine and backing out of the space. Once I was merrily on my way back to my little apartment, I hit the power button for the CD player I'd had fitted in a few months ago. Marina and the Diamonds' _Primadonna_ started blaring out.

 _Beauty queen on a silver screen,_  
 _Living life like I'm in a dream._  
 _I know I've got a big ego._  
 _I really don't know why it's such a big deal, though._  
 _And I'm sad to the core, core, core,_  
 _Every day is a chore, chore, chore._  
 _When you feel a whole more, more, more,_  
 _I wanna be adored._

I knew of certain people who thought it was a song that was perfectly written for me. I agreed with them, actually. I'd always been a bit pretentious. I can admit that. When I was a little girl, my mom would call me her little prima-ballerina, which was stupid, because I never took a class of ballet in my life. But that was Mom- she never made a whole lot of sense, but she still found a way to look ridiculously intelligent when she said it. Her quirky sense of humor and our inside jokes always had me in fits of giggles.

But when I was fourteen, the giggling stopped. She died, to put it bluntly. She'd had breast cancer near enough constantly since I was ten, but at the start, it had been controllable. She'd had the chemo, the radiotherapy, the other drugs, the hospital stays. She'd even been classed as in remission a couple of times. But suddenly, it came back worse than ever, and there was nothing more the doctors could do for her. She was re-diagnosed on New Year's Day. They gave her three months. It was only four weeks later, just five days after my fourteenth birthday, that she was gone.

My mom had been my everything. Like every girl, she had been my best friend, my mentor, my rock. It wasn't that my dad and I hadn't got along, because we'd been close too. But Mom had always been the one I'd gone to with my problems, if I needed to talk to her about girly stuff or anything that was troubling me, and she'd understand me just like that. Now I had no one. Something inside me broke then.

I began acting out at school. I was getting into fights with anyone who looked at me the wrong way – which I took as 'if anyone even looks in my direction' – I didn't do any of my homework, barely turned up to my lessons. The school staged a literal intervention and had me placed in counselling for bereavement and anger issues.

Dr Ronson, my therapist, tried everything. He tried getting me to talk about my problems, had me write things down, got my dad into a few sessions to see if that worked (it didn't. My relationship with Dad had declined rapidly since Mom died). So Dr Ronson had to try a new approach, the only approach he had left. A physical outlet.

Did I want to try out for girls' soccer? No.

How about football? No.

Lacrosse? No.

Basketball again? No way, I'd already been thrown of the team for biting Cindy Harleston after she tried to intercept me.

The cheerleading squad? Oh _hell_ to the no!

I was being so difficult that eventually, he had to look outside of school to get me to even consider listening to him. After I turned down a local swim team, running and kickboxing, he found me something that sounded actually sounded like it could be worth my time. He found me a wrestling school that took place in a gym which was just a twenty minute walk away from my current house.

I'd been dubious at first. Wasn't wrestling for 'roided-up dudes covered in oil? It had never been an interest of mine. I mean, it was 2002. I knew of wrestling. The Attitude Era of the then-WWF was hot on everyone's minds, and the kids at school never shut up about The Undertaker, Triple H, Kane, Lita, Trish Stratus, the Hardy Boyz, Chris Jericho and all those other legends of TV-14. But it really never appealed to me. No matter how ironic that may be, I hold my hands up and admit it.

Still, there was nothing else giving my life meaning at that point so I figured I'd give it a try. So on Mondays, Wednesdays, Fridays, Saturdays and some Sundays I spent three hours at that gym - six hours at the weekends - training and learning and perfecting every single move my trainer decided to teach me.

And you know what? I was good. I was honestly, actually good. Having played basketball from the age of seven, I had the athleticism, the durability and the speed to keep me going in a match for well over ten or fifteen minutes. I liked to pack a punch, so I wasn't bothered about hurting anyone. And most importantly, my current 'I don't give a fuck' attitude to life meant I wasn't afraid of _anyone_ I got in the ring with, even as a mere fetus wrestler.

After being there just two months, I was being put in matches against seventeen-year-old high school senior boys. Sure, in those cases I did usually get my ass handed to me, but the point was that I wasn't afraid; I enjoyed it. It really felt like I'd found my calling in life.

But then my dearest father threw the world's biggest wrench into the works.

Just nine months later, a few weeks after I turned fifteen, Dad announced that he just couldn't do it anymore. He couldn't stay in Dallas, where everything just reminded him of Mom and that she was gone. He couldn't stay with _me_ because I reminded him too much of her. He said that he'd stuck it out for the year, but looking at me, and seeing her eyes in my face and her hair on my head, was just a constant cruel reminder that his true love had been ripped from him. He needed to 'get away and start fresh.' So he did.

It took a bit of time, but Dad just upped and left me, moving across three states to Alabama and leaving me alone in the Dallas care system. Devastated didn't even begin to cover how I felt. I was furious, I was broken, and I was betrayed. If I'd reacted badly to Mom dying, it was _nothing_ compared to how I reacted to being totally abandoned.

It was a steady decline. First came the people I hung out with. Not matter what foster family I stayed with - whether kind, loving or just in it for the cash - no matter what school I was sent to while I stayed with them, I automatically gravitated towards the 'wrong crowd.' I was the girl who swore at teachers, who was constantly in detention the days I actually decided to even turn up for class, the girl who attacked people in the corridors for no reason, who slept with half the football team just because I could.

I was the girl who, despite constantly having a crowd of people around me, had no friends.

I didn't want friends. I didn't _need_ friends. As far as I could see, everyone in my life that I grew to care about would leave me. Mom, Dad, my aunts, uncles and grandparents who had apparently completely forgotten my entire existence. I lashed out at anyone and everyone. The only thing that was keeping me going was my wrestling.

Whatever family I stayed with, however far from the gym they were, I begged and pleaded and screamed and cried until my foster parents agreed to drive me there. Luckily, I learned drive pretty quickly (my first foster dad had been a cab driver and started teaching me to drive almost as soon as I moved in with them) so I was only relying on people for about a year and a half.

Every day I trained, I was getting better. I was entering state competitions for teens every other weekend and winning. I was actually _winning_ them! I should have been on top of the world, right? I was becoming an amazing wrestler, the families I stayed with were usually really nice people who tried to understand my fucked-up mentality as best they could, and physically, I was able to work out a lot of issues.

Physically. But mentally, I was still dying. The way I was acting at school meant my grades were at an all-time low, there were always talks of me getting thrown out, no matter where I enrolled, and the loneliness was finally starting to catch up with me. So I did whatever I could to block it out.

By mid-2004, at the tender age of just sixteen, I was stealing booze from my foster parents on a daily basis and drinking until I blacked out. It carried on like that until a little while before I turned eighteen and was due to be released from the care system. I was having a particularly low day- all I was thinking about was what I was going to do when I did hit the big one-eight.

Where would I go? Where would I live? What would I do? I just wanted it to end, so I grabbed a bottle of vodka from the drinks cabinet and a load of prescription pills from the medicine box. I emptied both bottles, passed out and I didn't wake up. My foster family freaked out big time; this was the second suicide attempt they'd gone through with me, though the last one had been a half-bottle of whiskey and a few extra-strong painkillers. Not enough to do any lasting damage.

But this time was different. I was in a coma for two weeks. I'd had my stomach pumped and God knows what else to stop my insides rotting out, and had an operation on my liver because I'd slowly been destroying it over the previous year and a half. My body was a complete wreck. The surgery had left me with a five inch-long scar that stretched itself right the way across the part of my torso where my liver was. I despised it. Every time I looked at it, I was reminded of what a weak, pathetic human being I was; too weak to fight her own demons, so instead I'd tried - and still failed - to silence them.

But that was when I realised something. Two times, I'd tried to do this, and both times I had pulled through. What if this was the world telling me that I didn't need to be this way, that there was something out there that meant I really had a meaning on this Earth? Or at least, could _grow_ to mean something? I was here to stay, and if I was here, I was gonna spend my time doing what the fuck I loved whenever the fuck I wanted, and that was putting the smackdown on some bitches in the ring. However, there was a minor tactical setback to my epiphany.

I was completely out of action for three months. No school, no driving, and _definitely_ no wrestling. It looked like my career was going to be ended before I could even call it my career. Everything was a total mess. A plus side was that I took on a new hobby in the form of painting, but it just wasn't the same as drop-kicking another chick across the ring.

So physiotherapy was a must. As soon as I was given a relative all-clear, I met with a hospital-appointed physiotherapist every other day for a month, who helped me to walk and move without straining the healing wound across my abdomen where they had sliced me open. At first, it had been...excruciating. Every tiny little step had tugged at the heeling gash, threatening to tear it open all over again. Recovery was slow and agonizing, but I fought through it, just like I fought through all the other shit I'd been through. I was determined that this wouldn't be the end of me wrestling. I would have nothing left.

So I fought. And I fought. And I fought. And eventually, a couple of months down the line, I pushed the doors of my gym open and walked in with two middle fingers held high, ready to show the bitches who had no doubt started up in my absence exactly why I would never be replaced.

As soon as I turned eighteen, though, my time in care was up, and I decided this meant that my time in Texas was also over. Too much had happened to me in Dallas to even have me considering remaining here, so I dropped out of school, packed my bags and said goodbye to my final foster family. I drove off into the sunset funded with nothing but my government-issued grant, five thousand dollars my foster parents had given me despite my protests that it was too much (they'd been legitimately loaded, so God knows why I'd tried to turn in down) and some money I'd made from little weekend jobs.

I travelled around the States seeking out any wrestling competitions I could find. I wormed my way into the independent circuit easily, eventually getting signed to Combat Zone Wrestling, or CZW, in 2008, and for three years I totally crushed it. I hadn't wanted to go for Ring of Honor or any of the other Indy companies that were more, well, family-friendly. The way I saw it, it was a case of go hard or go home, even if that meant going so hard that I often went home covered in blood- not always mine, either.

I was at the top of my game, and I did it all by myself. I had no tag team, no travelling partner, no training buddy. It was just me and the ring, which was just how I liked it.

The day I discovered there was going to be a WWE talent scout at a show I was competing in was a dream come true. Finally, all the hard work was going to pay off. If I could get signed to WWE, it would prove that I _was_ something, I _was_ capable of being someone that mattered. I trained gruellingly for four weeks, seven hours a day, every day. I had to be in the best shape possible to stand out from the other competitors. I had nothing to offer the scout but sheer talent and determination; I'd never won any titles to speak of, unlike the other girls who had won various belts from various companies over the years.

I was shitting myself the night of my match. I was taking part in a triple threat, and word had it that the winner was going to be the one scouted. Well, unless the scout thought that we all just sucked ass. With a potential WWE contract on the line, us three girls in the match were spitting venom at each other before the bell had even rung. It was brutal.

One girl sent me flying into a turnbuckle and split the flesh above my right eyebrow completely open, sending blood flowing into my eye. I in turn hit her in the face with a bicycle kick so violent that I broke her nose and cracked her cheekbone. That left her completely out of the action, so I turned my attention to the other girl.

The pain radiating through my head had made me furious; beyond furious. Here I was, standing in the middle of the ring with blood dripping down my face, matting in my hair, in front of a WWE talent scout. I was _not_ going to lose this match, especially not to the big-boobed, blonde-haired bitch in front of me, and definitely not to the brunette now crying over her nose in the corner. I flew at the blonde, connecting my arm against her throat in a devastating clothesline that had her hitting the canvas mat so hard she rebounded on to her front. I delivered a series of kicks to her back that had the ref pulling me off her, and as soon as she attempted to stand up I delivered a blow to the backs of her knees so she fell back down. I then pulled her into a such a powerful then-unnamed-Chainsaw that I could physically feel her stomach muscles straining. It didn't look like she was going to admit defeat, but soon her hands were flailing and tapping for all she was worth.

I'd been completely and utterly excited about the fact I'd won. So excited that to release the girl from the submission move I just unwrapped my legs from around her neck and kicked her sharply between the shoulder blades so she sprawled forward into a heap in front of me. The ref lifted my arm into the air while I clamped my other hand to my eye to stem the bleeding. That injury also scarred me, and that was a scar I could wear with pride.

The rest, as they say, is history.

It's no secret that I was pretty damn psycho as Savannah Rose - I mean, my entrance music in CZW had been Slipknot's _Black Heart_ , so what does that tell you? - but due to WWE being strictly PG, Savannah Jordan had toned her ways down. A lot. I didn't swear in the ring, I didn't make inappropriate innuendos...often, I didn't deliberately go out of my way to make someone bleed, I didn't cause anyone too much pain. I was beyond a bitch, sure, and I screamed a lot, but that was nothing compared to how I had been. But I tried not to think about the past too much; I was all about the future. My future.

* * *

I was still humming along to my CD as I pulled into the parking lot of my apartment complex. I headed up to my apartment via the stairs, because I figured it added that extra bit of cardio to my day since I lived up on the fifteenth floor. I pushed the door open and threw my tote down, channelling my inner Selina Kyle. "Honey, I'm home!" I called into the empty apartment. "Oh wait, I forgot I'm not married."

The second I swung the door shut, though, my iPhone started ringing from the depths of the bag, vibrating and playing out Rihanna's _S &M ._

I quickly dug it out and had a look at the caller ID. All it said was 'WWE.' Shit. That was talent relations. Oh _shit_. What had I done?! I was hardly ever called by work, unless it was _really_ serious. Oh God oh God oh God. Was I getting fired?!

 _Woah, Sav, calm the fuck down_ , I thought. _Of course you're not getting fired, just answer the goddamn phone so you know what's going on!_ I hated it when I had a point. I slid the Accept Call across and pressed the phone against my ear. "Hello?"

"Savannah, hi. It's Canyon here," came the voice of Canyon Ceman, head of NXT talent relations. "How are you?"

"Oh, C-Canyon, hi," I stuttered. "I er, I'm- I'm fine. Yeah, I'm fine, thanks. How are you?"

"I'm great, Savannah, thanks. Listen, what are you doing tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow?" I frowned. "I'm not due for any tapings or anything, I was just going to go to the gym."

"Actually, we're going to need you to come in tomorrow, at some point. There's a matter we'd really like to discuss with you in person."

"Am I getting fired?!" I blurted out.

Ceman laughed. "No, Savannah, you're not getting fired, I promise."

"Not getting fired. Okay." I took a deep breath. "What time do you want me to come by?" _So you can not fire me, apparently._

"Shall we say...three o'clock? That way you can still have your gym session."

"I'm down for that," I said without thinking. Then I remembered who I was talking to. "I mean, yes, three o'clock's perfectly fine, thanks," I retracted quickly, slapping my hand to my forehead in a particularly painful facepalm.

"Excellent. Well, I shall see you tomorrow, Savannah."

"Yeah, I guess you will. Thanks for the call, Canyon. See you tomorrow." I hung up my phone but kept a hold on it, staring at its black 'More Issues Than Vogue' case. What in the fuck was that all about? I wasn't getting fired. Okay. I got that much. But why else would the head of talent want to see me? Oh Jesus, what if they wanted me to be in a tag team? Urgh, if I ended up with someone like Summer Rae, I swore to God...

Still, I guessed there was no point dwelling on this for now. If I dwelled, I would panic. If I panicked, I would scream, and throw things, and smash things up. In short, it wouldn't be pretty. So I ignored it. Or at least, I compressed it by focusing on other things. Namely, chilling out for the evening.

I shut my phone off - ha, like I'd actually get any texts from anyone other than my service provider - pulled my hair out of its ponytail so it fluffed out around my head in a ginger cloud and headed into the bathroom to take a shower. The hot water worked out all the knots in my back, and I tried to stay with that 'positive thinking' crap I'd been talking myself into.

 _Not getting fired...it's gonna be some amazing career opportunity that's too big to discuss over the phone...not getting fired...it's gonna be some amazing career opportunity that's too big to discuss over the phone...not getting fired...it's gonna be some amazing career opportunity that's too big to discuss over the phone...not getting fired...not getting fired...NOT GETTING FIRED._ Oh my God, what if some pathetic ex-boyfriend- okay, ex-one night stand had seen me on TV and decided now was a great time to sell a story on me?! I'd be completely fucked.

I slammed my hand against the shower dial and twisted it quickly to shut it off. I leaned against the glass door, breathing heavily. Now was not the time to be having a panic attack. I had literally been assured that I had _nothing_ to worry about. See what having a shit adolescence does to your self-esteem? The second it seemed like something could go wrong, I had a major freak out.

I wrapped myself in a warm towel I'd left outside the shower and clambered out of the door, shivering slightly. I wiped the condensation off the mirror and gave myself a once over before padding through to my bedroom. Feeling drained, I didn't even bother getting changed; I collapsed face-first on to my bed and closed my eyes. I was out cold in a matter of seconds.

* * *

I woke up bright-eyed and bushy-tailed at 6.30AM the next morning. Apparently sleeping for eleven hours can be good for you. Who'da thunk it. I threw on some workout gear, fixed myself a quick bowl of Lucky Charms, chugged down half a glass of orange juice and headed out the door at 7.15, ready to train the day away.

The great thing about arriving at the gym before eight was that it was borderline empty. I had my pick of the equipment. I scraped my hair into two pigtails and put my headphones in my phone, placed my phone in my arm-strap and selected Lady GaGa's _The Fame_ album as my soundtrack. I then spent five minutes stretching myself out so I wouldn't cramp up and got down to it. I stayed in the gym until one o'clock, doing a complete circuit of the place: the rower, weights, running machine, cross-trainer, push-ups, sit-ups, planks…the works. I'd always loved exercise, it gave me a sense of control over myself. I'd never been, like, overweight, but I'd been a pudgy little kid with round cheeks and a less-than-flat stomach.

After all these years of daily workouts and a good diet, I'd given myself much more angular cheekbones and one badass six-pack. I knew I looked good, which did really help with the confidence issues. It was just a shame I had so many that it hardly made a difference to the overall way I felt about myself.

Once I'd stretched off, I skipped my usual 'have a shower, get changed, go to Starbucks' routine. Instead, it was straight home and back into the shower there to wash off the smell of hard work. There was no time for me to fuck around, I had to get to Full Sail University, where NXT was based, and go to this damn meeting. This damn meeting that now I had nothing else to focus on I was beginning to panic about. Again. _Oh my God, Sav, get a grip on yourself._

It was time to get professional. White jeans and a black shirt seemed as good an idea as any, so I ransacked my closet and found the appropriate clothes, pulled them on over my still-damp body and did a 360 in the mirror to deem myself acceptable. Hair now up in a bun, I grabbed my regular apple-shaped handbag, checked I had my wallet, keys and phone, and headed straight back out the door and into my car.

Did I break the speed limit to get to the university? Yes. Did I almost run over a small family of ducks on my way? Yes. Were any shits given? No. I didn't have _time_ to give a shit. I just wanted to know what was so important that Canyon Ceman couldn't talk to me about it over the phone. No matter what he's said last night, I was still half-convinced I was getting fired.

I skidded through the doors at two forty-five, only to be told that he was in the middle of an important phone call and I would have to wait. So I did. I sat myself down on a couch outside his office and tapped my purple-painted nails against my knee anxiously. This is what I got for trying to be punctual; anxiety and more stress. They were probably preparing the contract for me to sign to say I'd never come near the premises again.

The office door suddenly opened, and I practically jumped to my feet, I was so nervous. I also knocked over the potted plant next to the couch, but that was neither here nor there.

"Savannah, great to see you," Canyon said warmly, shaking my hand and gesturing me into the office. "Please, come in, make yourself comfortable."

"Um, thanks," I mumbled, awkwardly patting at my bun to check it was still in place and sitting down in the leather chair across from his desk. "It's good to see you too."

"Can I get you a drink? Coffee? Tea? Water?"

"A glass of water would be nice, thank you." My mouth had gone dry as a desert.

He handed me a bottle of water from a small fridge in the corner of the room, which I gratefully cracked open.

"So, I'd like to get straight down to business, if that's okay with you," he said, sitting across from me and placing his hands on the desk. I nodded, lowering my eyes. Here it came...

"We have got an absolutely incredible opportunity for you."

 _What?_ I blinked. "Um, so just to clarify...I'm really not getting fired?"

"What?" Now it was Canyon's turn to look confused. "No, of course you're not getting fired, I told you that yesterday. No, this is something that really couldn't benefit you more, and I think it's something you've been waiting for for a while."

I settled back in my seat, crossing one leg over the other. "I'm listening." All the anxiety just seemed to melt out of me.

"Savannah, you've been part of developmental for well over two years now." _Yeah, tell me about it_. "And we feel that you've reached your full potential here at NXT."

"Okay?" I said, drawing out the 'ay' sound for a second. "I'm not really following?"

"For the last couple of weeks, I've been having a few meetings with Hunter Hearst Helmsley," he informed me. "Meetings about you."

I promptly choked on the water I'd just taken a sip of. The head of talent relations had been having meetings with Triple H - the boss man, the big cheese, the King of Kings - about me?! Wait. Wait wait wait. Did...did this mean...

"Really?" was all I said out loud. "Wow, that's, um, really unexpected. Why?"

"Hunter and I are both very impressed with your talent, Savannah. Extremely impressed, actually. You go out there, and even though you don't always get the, er, warmest reception, you power through and you deliver, every single match. You've had an undefeated streak for almost two months. Hunter and I both feel that you're ready to move up and join the main roster."

The words had barely left his lips before I let out a loud shriek of excitement. "Oh my God! Canyon- Mr Ceman, I- I can't thank you enough! Really, this is a dream come true, I promise you that you won't regret this at all! Thank you, I- I-" _I'm running out of ways to say thank you!_ "When do I get to start?!"

"Well, we're trying something a little different with you," Canyon said. "We were going to wait until the post-WrestleMania Raw for you to make your first showing. However, we've had a change of plan. There is a faction on the main roster who have been having an incredible undefeated streak much like yours, just longer. The reception they've been receiving has been phenomenal. However, they feel that they need to do something to really shake things up, to get people talking about them even more. They want to add a woman to their ranks. We feel that you are that woman, Savannah. You say you stand for bringing the battle to the ring? So do they. You'll be the perfect compliment to their reign."

I frowned. "You're adding me to an all-male faction?" Yeah, because that made complete sense.

"We are. You'll stand out as the new girl, the girl everyone will have their eye on! We're flying you out to New Jersey in two weeks to give you time to settle in to the mayhem of the city before your first televised appearance on April seventh."

"April seventh?!" I repeated. "But isn't that...?"

"WrestleMania Twenty-Nine, yes."

I couldn't believe this. "You want me to make my main roster wrestling debut at WrestleMania Twenty-Nine?"

At that, Ceman actually laughed. "Dear God, no! Can you imagine the backlash from the fans if we let an NXT rookie make her performing debut at a WrestleMania? They'd be furious we chose a newbie over a far more worthy Diva. No, no, we're going to have you valeting. People will talk, they'll want to know who you are. That's when we get you to wrestle on the post-Mania Raw. Sound good to you?"

I couldn't speak at first, I was so amazed. "I- Yeah, that sounds just...great. This is incredible, but...if you don't mind me asking...um, who is it exactly that I'm being teamed up with?"

"Ah, yes. Of course, I haven't actually told you that critical part. Savannah, I assume you've heard about The Shield?"

* * *

 **A/N- And that is chapter one DONE! I really hope you enjoyed it! So let me know. Review, follow, favourite, anything to let me know you want me to keep going! Oh, I probably should have mentioned this earlier...I'm English, not American, so if I've said anything typically British, let me know! So, hopefully I'll be returning soon, and until then...au revior, my little crumpets! Xx Gee xX**

 **PS- If anyone's curious, Sav's entrance music is** _ **Comanche**_ **by In This Moment. Because I have no life, I actually took the time to make her titantron, which is posted on my profile along with a trailery-type video for the fic as a whole, and to who I picture Sav looking like. There's also a link to an in-progress Polyvore collection that I will be updating as the fic goes on, so check 'em all out! XD**


	2. Make My Name

**A/N- Yeah, so I put the rating up. Yeah...I just know that's where this is gonna end up. Anyway, thanks so much to everyone who's followed and favourited this! It really means a lot to me, and special thanks to Siren's Call To The Dead and XoxoShonKV for being my first reviewers!**

* * *

 **Chapter Two- Make My Name**

 _ **SavvyAsHellWWE: Excited doesn't even cover how I'm feeling right now. I may shit myself, and this time it isn't Catering's fault!  
Tweeted 03/20/13 17.47PM**_

I snorted so violently that I almost ruptured a tonsil. Had I heard of The Shield? The question was literally laughable. Of _course_ I'd heard of The Shield. Ever since their debut at Survivor Series last November, they'd been taking the WWE by storm. I'd known them before 'The Shield' had even been thought of.

I'd been backstage at FCW as Seth Rollins and Dean Ambrose tried to beat the shit out of each other for the FCW 15 Championship- twice. I'd seen Ambrose tamper with a turnbuckle and smash William Regal's ear into it. I'd watched Roman Reigns pick Ambrose and Rollins up like they were children and double Samoan drop them to become number one contender for the FCW Heavyweight Championship. I'd been in the crowd at the top of the ramp as the whole NXT roster watched Rollins become the first NXT Champion.

Well, I say I knew them. More, I knew of them. I'd never really spoken to two of them all much as they hadn't exactly been my kind of people. Seth Rollins had oozed 'cocky dickhead,' and Roman Reigns…Roman Reigns just hadn't talked all that much, and when he had, all I'd heard was arrogance. And now they were storming around the main roster, raising hell and putting down anyone they deemed to be causing the company 'injustice.'

But Dean Ambrose. Dean Ambrose I knew real good. We'd been signed to CZW at the same time till he'd moved over to Dragon Gate USA, back when I'd been Savannah Rose and he was known as Jon Moxley. We'd worked closely together really quite a few times, he'd insulted me on a daily basis, I'd beaten the living shit out of him...oh, and we'd slept together. More times than I would ever care to admit. Hell, we'd practically dated. I'd been twenty the first time we fucked, he'd been older, twenty-two maybe.

It was 2008. I was still looking for a company to plant my roots in and was in Philadelphia, starting out with CZW to see if they wanted to sign me. My first match with them? An intergender tag-team: Savannah Rose and Jon Moxley vs...I can't even remember, some other chick and one tank of a dude.

I'd fucked up. Hardcore. Like, so badly that I still don't know why the company ended up signing me. The other girl had got hold of me by the hair and ripped, and I do mean _ripped_ , a handful out.

One minute, I'd been getting the upper hand. I was throwing out all my best moves; hurricanranas, diving crossbodies, springboard clotheslines, leg drops, spinning heel kicks, a suicide dive and debuted my Chainsaw - though she had powered out of that - but the next minute, there was an almighty tearing noise as she scalped me. The pain had been so strong and so sudden that I'd collapsed there in the middle of the ring, blood dripping down my face from where the bitch had torn the hair from my roots.

So as Dean/Jon/Mox/whatever the fuck you want to call him had remained on the apron, screaming at me to make a tag, I'd just rolled around in the middle of the ring, my hands covering the bald patch I was now sporting. The girl had capitalized and managed to pin me for the three count. Then, not only was I in pain, but I was _pissed_ , and on top of everything else, Dean got in the ring and started yelling at me for fucking up. I'd never even gotten the chance to try out a new finishing move I'd finally perfected- an inverted tornado DDT that I had christened the Southern Belle.

To add insult to injury, this was in front of the biggest crowd I'd ever wrestled in front of. Dean had then grabbed me by the hair - yeah, really. It was CZW, nothing was against the rules, including intergender violence - and dragged me backstage. We had a blazing argument in the locker room. He made an implication - read, direct comment - about me being nothing more than a cheap, talentless ho, I slapped him clean around the face, he slammed me back against one of the lockers, and then, well...shit happened.

Biggest mistake ever, on my part. He'd been a cocky little shit anyway, but after that incident Dean became almost unbearable to be around. He thought that me sleeping with him made me his property. Whenever he saw me, he'd have his hand on my back, my hip or my ass, he'd brush my hair back behind my ears, kiss my neck.

It took two weeks of attempted rejection and me smashing a glass light fixture over his head during another of our tag matches so we lost to show him that I didn't belong to _anyone_. That sparked off perhaps the biggest girl-on-guy feud CZW had ever seen. Not that that was hard to do, I mean there were literally four girls in the company at the time, including me.

Apparently Deano hadn't appreciated me making a total ass of him, and he wanted to make me pay for it. What he hadn't counted on was me being just as cut-throat and vicious as any and all of the guys. The light fixture over the head was just the beginning. We put each other through tables, beat each other black and blue with baseball bats and steel chairs, I'd attempted to choke him by stepping on his throat, he'd shoved me into a pile of broken glass...and that was only the start.

We'd gotten back together then broken up again so often that we gave the CZW fans whiplash trying to keep up with us. When were together, we were lethal. Apart, we were each other's biggest threat.

I was actually pretty disappointed when he decided to make minimal appearances in CZW so he could pursue other companies. Imagine my surprise when I walked into FCW in 2011 for the first time and the first thing I heard was a very familiar Cincinnati accent behind me drawl out, "Well, well, well, look who finally made it to the big time. Little Savannah Rosie-Posie."

All these thoughts had ran through my mind in the space of about three seconds, but aloud all I said was, "Yes. I haven't been living under a rock for the past six months. I've definitely heard of The Shield. I'm assuming they're who I'm being teamed up with?"

"You would assume correctly, Savannah," Ceman replied. "We're putting you with The Shield. They have their first WrestleMania match this year, against Big Show, Randy Orton and Sheamus. Throwing a beautiful new valet into the mix will really get the crowd going, especially since their match is opening the pay-per-view."

"So no pressure on me to not mess up, then," I joked.

"Savannah, we wouldn't be putting this forward to you if we thought you were going to mess up," he said, but he was smiling.

"This is really happening, isn't it?" I said almost dreamily. "I'm actually going to be on the main roster."

"And as a member of perhaps the most dominant faction seen in recent years, no less," he added. "So Savannah, do I take this as your acceptance of the offer?"

"Of course!" I said quickly. "I'd have to be completely insane to turn this down! I honestly can't thank you enough for this opportunity, sir."

"Just make sure you go out there and prove us right, Miss Jordan," Ceman said. "Show why you were the one to deserve this."

"And I promise I will," I said seriously. "I won't let you and Triple H down, Mr Ceman. I swear."

"I trust that you won't. Now, as I said," Ceman added. "You'll be flying out to New Jersey on April second, in time for the start of WrestleMania week. Once you're out there, we'll be arranging for you to be chaperoned by Natalya Neidhart with two other new girls, and-"

"Woah, woah, woah, hold up!" I said quickly, waving my hands in the air. "First of all, chaperoned? Seriously? No. Not happening. I'm twenty-five years old, I've been in this company for over two years, I know what I'm doing."

Ceman looked more than a little taken aback. "Well, we just thought that having a guide, as it were, would make you feel more comfortable since this is your first pay-per-view, and it is the biggest wrestling event of the entire year-"

"I don't care. Mr Ceman, please understand. I've been doing things by myself for a very, very long time. I _like_ doing things by myself. Being chaperoned will just make me feel awkward and, if anything, _un_ comfortable. I don't need or want a guide. Please. I'm sorry for being so rude and blunt, but this is something I feel really strongly about. I'd really rather just run this as a lone wolf until I meet up with the Shield boys."

Ceman removed his reading glasses and placed them on the desk in front of him. "You are a very stubborn woman, aren't you, Savannah? Very well. We'll make the appropriate arrangements to remove you from Natalya's care. To be fair, this is probably better. She'll have her hands full with the new rookie Divas anyway."

"Right, yeah, that was my next question," I said. "Um...I didn't realize anyone else was getting moved up as well. None of the other girls have spoken about it at all."

"That's because these girls haven't been part of NXT yet. They've only been in the ring for about a month," he explained. "They're two of the cast members for the new WWE reality show on E! starting this summer: _Total Divas._ "

"And they're already being moved up to the main roster?!" I demanded, thunderstruck. Who the _fuck_ did these girls think they were?! I'd worked my ass off for the better part of eleven years, spending three of those years living in Philadelphia and getting beating to a bloody pulp every other night just to make it here! And these two newbies thought they could just waltz in and immediately get to the top spot?! Just because they were gonna be part of a fucking reality show?! Fuck _no_!

"No, no, no. They're just being shown the ropes by some of the veteran Divas before they start appearing on televised events," he told me. "Their names are Eva Marie and JoJo."

 _They sound like cheap strippers_ , is something I did not say out loud. Instead, I just sniffed contemptuously and said, "Oh. Right. Well, I, er, look forward to meeting them." I didn't.

"Now, do you have any more questions, Savannah?" Ceman asked me. "Because I think that, for now, this is all you need to know."

I shook my head. "No sir, no questions. I just can't thank you enough for putting your faith in me."

"Well then, congratulations, Savannah Jordan," he said, standing up, so I followed suit. He reached for my hand and shook it professionally. "While I'm sure you will be missed around NXT, welcome to the main roster."

* * *

My transition to the official WWE wasn't quite as easy as that one meeting, though. In fact, I had several meetings, including one with Triple H and Stephanie McMahon themselves for my contract signing, making me an official WWE Diva for at least the next three years. I taped my final NXT appearance, and I walked out of Full Sail University undefeated as I pinned Emma after hitting her with the Southern Belle. It was a bittersweet moment; I would miss my comfortable, permanent life in Florida, but the road was calling my name.

April 2nd came so quickly. I packed up as much of stuff as I would physically be allowed to take on the plane in my adorable purple flowered suitcase and purple holdall, locked up my apartment and headed down and out to the cab that was waiting to take me to the airport. I was dressed for travelling in leggings, a long t-shirt that read _I've Got Your Back_ and Converse, no makeup and pretty messy hair.

Though the flight was only a little over two hours itself, I still found a way to bug the fuck out as we were waiting for take-off. I'd never been a great flyer, having spent the duration of my life with my feet firmly on the ground. Even before I'd ended up planting temporary roots in Philadelphia when I joined CZW for those three years, all my travelling around the States had solely been by car. Something about being so many thousand feet in the air made me super on edge. I don't think I actually breathed properly until the plane's wheels touched down on Newark Airport soil.

After that, I had four pretty jam-packed days. Though as little information about my debut was being given out as possible, I still got to have my own signing at WrestleMania Axxess two days before the actual pay-per-view, which was a beyond surreal experience. Seeing people queuing up to see _me_ , to take pictures with _me_ , to get _my_ autograph actually made me tear up a little. I hadn't even made my official debut, and I already felt like I'd made it.

I mean, obviously I wasn't so up my own ass that I was under the delusion I _had_ made it. However, it was nice to experience the hype of WrestleMania Week first-hand, rather than just seeing it on TV or hearing about it from other people.

The same days as my Axxess appearance, I'd had my own mini dress rehearsal by myself (with the help of a few crew members) at the actual MetLife Stadium so I could practice walking down the stairs and through where the crowd would be in the big-ass high heels I was going to be wearing. This was the only thing that struck me as a little odd. I'd been here four days; why hadn't I been officially introduced to the boys of The Shield? They weren't expecting us to just act like we knew each other from the off because we'd spent the tiniest amount of time acquainted in developmental, right?

However, once I confronted – oh God, that sounds so demanding. Okay, once I _asked_ – the WWE heads of Talent Relations, Jane and Mark, about why I was still yet to met Ambrose, Rollins and Reigns, I was simply told that they were completely overrun with press, signings, public appearances, interviews and the like that our schedules just hadn't been able to cross yet. In fact, The Shield's schedule was so packed that I apparently wouldn't be meeting them properly until April 7th itself. Brilliant. Like I wasn't stressed about that day enough already.

But tonight was so not the night to be worrying about that. Because tonight was my very first red carpet event. I'd been invited to the WrestleMania kick-off party, and to say I was so thrilled there was a chance I'd wet myself was an understatement. There was going to be paparazzi, cameras, film crews, celebrities, WWE Superstars and legends alike…tonight was the place to be if you were a wrestler. This was my time to get myself noticed and mingle, to start making a name for myself.

Being in developmental hadn't earned me what you'd call a fortune, but I wasn't exactly broke either, and my one weakness in life was clothes. As soon as I'd left the stadium this afternoon I'd jumped straight into a cab and headed to the nearest mall to get myself an outfit worthy of the red carpet. I knew all the other Divas would be wearing their designer dresses, so I'd gone with something a little different, a little more me.

I finished adding natural-looking waves to my hair with my curling iron and admired the black floral high-waisted skirt, black cropped bustier and black laced Louboutin pumps I'd picked out for myself (okay, I'd bought the Louboutins with me from Florida; they'd been the first thing I'd treated myself to when I'd started making real money). The skirt came up high enough that I was only flashing about an inch and a half of midriff and it settled about three inches above my knees, hooping out, so I looked classy yet sexy, and definitely not slutty, even with the slash in the neckline of the bustier. I finished the look off with a dusty pink flower necklace and as natural-looking making up I could get away with, and bada bing, bada boom, hottest bitch in the room. If I did say so myself.

"Don't freak out," I told my reflection. "You're going to belong there just as much as anyone else is. You're gonna be the most fearless, ruthless, baddest Diva this company has ever seen, and soon, everyone's gonna know it."

I was a confident, talented, relatively happy girl, but there could be times where I was crippled by insane paranoia. This was one of those times. I didn't give two flying fucks if the main roster Divas or Superstars accepted me or not, that wasn't my aim tonight at all. I was going mainstream. This was my first real step into becoming the Diva I knew I was supposed to be. The top Diva. You know, like, eventually. I still had a lot of work to do.

"Move your ass, bitch," I said, grabbing the pink Chanel bag I'd left on my hotel bed (second hand, perfect condition. God bless eBay) and heading out the door. My pre-paid cab was waiting for me right outside the front door. I had to bite my tongue to prevent myself from squealing with excitement as I slid in the backseat.

 _Make my name? Easy._

* * *

Cameras. Film crews. Paparazzi. This was all so…new to me. I mean, sure, I had fans, and yeah, I was used to having people shouting my name at me. But NXT hadn't completely taken off with its potential yet. We weren't a particularly hot commodity with the general American public, and we didn't get a whole lot of press coverage.

But the second I stepped out of my cab, it was like a feeding frenzy. One photographer saw me, yelled my name and started snapping pictures, then another one got in on the action, then another. I made my way up the red carpet that lead into the plush boutique hotel, occasionally stopping for a photo to be taken and to sign autographs. I posed against the sponsored backdrop, answered the questions hurled at me by the journalists, and just generally tried to blend in. God, I looked amazing.

Actually, scratch that. I looked good. It was the inside of the hotel that looked amazing. The lights were turned down low, there were fake white glittery tree-type things everywhere, candles, suede couches, a huge bar. The place was absolutely packed with people, and I knew precisely...none of them. I mean, obviously I recognized a lot of the main roster Superstars and Divas, but there was no one there I had ever spoken to in my life.

I spotted the newbies, Eva Marie and JoJo, across the room several times. I recognized them from pictures I'd seen of WrestleMania being documented for the WWE website. JoJo looked so _young_ , barely out of her teens, if that. Eva Marie, with her flaming red hair...I'll leave the opinion I gained of her where it is, *fake cough* slut...

I circulated the room several times, trying to gain as much recognition as I could. Due to my past with alcohol, I wasn't really drinking all that much, limiting myself to three glasses of champagne and no more. Instead, I was focusing on raising my profile and showing why I belonged here. And to be fair, I _did_ belong here. I had been in the company for two, going on three years. I had more right than half of the industry fat-cats swanning around like they owned the place. Hell, a couple of them probably did.

And it was as I stood talking to a few of these rich, suited businessmen that I felt a tap on my shoulder. I ceased my conversation and turned around to come face-to-face with...the Bella Twins. Bitch alert.

"Hey, you're Savannah, right?" the one with the blatantly false boobs - Nikki, I was pretty sure - said, a fake smile plastered to her face. "The other newbie?"

I fake-smiled back. "Yeah, that's me. But most people call me Sav. Savannah's really more my ring name nowadays."

"Well it's nice to meet you," the other twin, Brie, said, also fake-smiling. "So you're gonna be The Shield's girl, huh?"

I bristled at that assumption. I was _not_ only here because I was valeting with The Shield. I was my own wrestler. "Well, I mean, yeah, technically. I'll be _with_ The Shield, but I'm so not their girl. I barely know them. I haven't even really met them yet."

Both Bellas snorted at this. "That's not what we hear," said Nikki, giggling.

My face hardened. "Oh? And what have you heard?" I asked coldly, folding my arms and accidentally spilling champagne up my arm.

"Oh, you know, when we're told that a new girl is moving up from developmental, we like to find out what we're dealing with," Nikki said innocently. "We've done our research on you, _Sav_." I really didn't like the way she put emphasis on my name like that.

"Apparently, you do know a member of The Shield well," Brie decided to chip in. "Some might say... _very_ well."

"Oh, might they?" I bit out.

"Oh yeah," she said nonchalantly. "WWE might be a huge company, but we're all one big family. Rumors fly around every corner of the place when news of a rookie coming up breaks. People...they talk, sweetie."

"So tell us," said Nikki smugly. "What's Dean Ambrose like in bed? Because looking at him, I'd have to guess rough, nasty and just a little bit dangerous."

"How long did you know him before you hooked up?" asked Brie. "A month, a week?"

"Try a day," I said with a sarcastic smirk.

"Wow. You're a classy girl, aren't you, Savannah?" Nikki said with yet another false smile.

"No, I'm really not," I replied, rolling my eyes. "I also really don't think it's any of your business what - or who - I did before I joined this company. Fuck, it's none of your business what I do while I'm _in_ this company. You don't know me, bitches, so don't act like you do."

Nikki let out this really irritating laugh. The urge to rip out her hair extensions grew. "Sweetheart, you've been in this company seven minutes. We've been here seven years. There's a pecking order, and you need to learn it. Veterans, other Divas, newbies. That's how it works. So why don't you be a dear and go get me another glass of champagne?" She held her flute up in front of my face, barely an inch from my nose.

I snapped.

With a swipe of my arm I knocked the glass clean out of Nikki Bella's hand, causing it to shatter on the ground, and stepped up to her so that we were pretty much nose-to-nose. "Listen and listen good, Barbie," I hissed. "I may not have gotten my big break as quickly as you did, but I've been doing this shit since I was fourteen years old! That's eleven years, FYI! If you've done all this 'research' on me, then you'll know that I was part of one of the most hardcore wrestling companies in the country! I've given my blood and my bones to wrestling, I didn't just flash a smile and my tits at a talent scout! So maybe you wanna think twice about who you're calling a newbie, because I could drop your plastic ass like a ton of bricks here and now if I wanted to."

To say Brie and Nikki were speechless would be an understatement. Both of their mouths dropped open, and they made some indignant gasping noises, but no words came out. I stood there smugly, placing my hands innocently behind my back. "What's the matter, ladies? Bitch got your tongues? Word of advice: don't dish out shit if you're not willing to have it thrown back in your faces." And with that, I sharply turned around - making sure to catch Nikki in the eye with my long hair - and skipped away from the two of them, disappearing into the crowds of people.

* * *

I spent almost the entire day before WrestleMania in the gym. I'd received my finished outfit for tomorrow that morning, and it consisted of skintight ripped black skinny jeans, the spiked high-heeled boots I'd rehearsed in, a black elasticated crossover cropped top, a leather jacket and leather fingerless gloves. Summarized, the outfit clung to me like I was wearing a second skin and I needed to look as toned as I possibly could.

The gym in the hotel was absolutely packed with other Superstars and Divas, but I selected a treadmill in the furthest corner of the place and kept to myself for the whole six hours I was in there. I caught sight of Dolph Ziggler, Natalya Neidhart, Randy Orton, Fandango, Wade Barrett and The Funkadactyls, to name a few, as I worked my body down to the bone. The Bellas made an appearance for an hour or so, both of them scowling when they saw me. I just grinned at them and waved patronizingly. Fuck, I loved messing with people.

My evening consisted of two things: resting my now extremely aching body and watching old Shield matches. No, I wasn't just being some crazy fangirl. I needed to see close up how they worked as a unit, what their relationship with each other was like in the ring, how they worked together...if there really would be a spot for me in their little pack.

Brotherhood.

That was the first word that came to mind when I saw how Dean Ambrose, Roman Reigns and Seth Rollins interacted with each other. These were not three men just fighting together in the ring. They worked as one brain separated into three bodies. As soon as one moved, the other two knew where he would be and what he would be doing. It was almost mesmerizing to watch. I honestly couldn't work out how they thought there was gonna be space for me; these guys were clearly as close as you could be without being blood-related, why had they thought it was a good idea to bring some NXT stranger into their ranks, trusting that she wouldn't completely fuck up their chemistry?

"Why do I get the feeling that this is gonna go completely dicks up?" I muttered to myself, closing my laptop and collapsing back on my bed, staring at the ceiling. I blew out a sigh, rolling on my side and staring at the little digital alarm clock on the bedside table. Eight seventeen PM. I had roughly twenty-three hours until I made my debut. Less than one day, and all my hard work was gonna pay off. Tomorrow, Sunday 7th April, I became the wrestler I was truly meant to be.

Sunday 7th April...Sunday... _shit_! I bolted up into a sitting position, almost knocking my laptop to the floor. How the fuck had this not occurred to me before now?! I seized my phone, bringing up the dial pad and keying in the Dallas landline number that had been drummed into my head so many times over the last seven years that I could type it with my eyes closed. The phone rang about five times before someone picked up.

"Y'ello?" came the deep, Southern voice of Frank, my final foster father and the man I truly considered to be my dad. He and my foster mother, Nora, had never been able to have kids, so they fostered to fill the gap. They only ever took in one child at a time so they could give them all their undivided attention. I was with them the longest out of all my foster families- almost ten months. I loved them, and they loved me. They were the foster parents who had really supported me to be a wrestler, who had provided me with the funds to live out my dream when I turned eighteen, and they were the man and woman who had saved my life both times I OD'd.

And while they'd been the absolute definition of rich, it was because they owned a ranch on the outskirts of the city that supplied local butchers and grocery stores with like meat and vegetables and milk and cheese, all that stuff. Frank and Nora were still hardcore country, regardless of how well-off they were, and taught me that no matter where I got in life to always respect my Dallas roots. So even though I never, ever wanted to set foot in Texas again, I still embraced the country bumpkin in me.

"Hey Daddy!" I twittered into the phone, grinning even though he couldn't see me. I'd started referring to Frank and Nora as Dad and Mom years ago, though Nora had been apprehensive, saying she didn't want to take my real mom's place. I had assured her several times that she wasn't, and that this was my way of trying to accept that my real mom - Lorelei - was gone, and she was never coming back.

"Annah! Sweetheart, it's so great to hear from ya! Ya early, I thought ya weren't goin' to call till tomorrow? Ya momma ain't here, she's at her bridge club."

"Oh, that's okay," I said, trying not to let disappointment creep into my voice. I'd so wanted to tell Nora the news myself, but whatever, Frank would have to do it for me. "I'm not gonna be able to talk tomorrow is all, and I forgot she liked to get turnt on a Saturday night."

Frank laughed heartily. "That's ya mother, ya know how she gets when she an' Leslie have a few Jack Daniels! Anyway, baby, whatcha callin' about? Ya sound a little stressed. Work pushin' ya too hard?"

"I'm not stressed, Dad," I said truthfully, because I wasn't. "A little hassled, but not stressed. But you're right, it is work."

"See? Girl, I can read you like a damn book, even if ya are a thousand fuckin' miles away. Come on, tell ol' Frank what's botherin' ya."

"No, Dad, nothing's bothering me," I promised him. "Something absolutely amazing has happened, and I really wanted you and Momma to be the first to know before the entire world finds out, but since Momma isn't there, you're gonna have to tell her."

"Annah, you're startin' to worry me a tad," Frank said, and he did genuinely sound a little concerned. "What's goin' on?"

"Daddy, I- I- they've moved me on to the main roster!" I squealed, my excitement overtaking all the earlier nerves and I fell backwards so my head hung off the side of the bed, my hair trailing on the floor. "I'm gonna be on Raw and SmackDown and Main Event and shit! It's actually happened!"

"What?!" There was a loud crashing the other end of the phone and I could only assume that Frank had knocked over the six pack of beer he no doubt had in front of him. "Annah, don't ya be playin' games with me, girl! I just knocked over my damn Bud 'cause of ya sayin' shit like that!" Yup, got him in one.

"I'm not, I swear!" I giggled, listening to him cursing as he tried to clean himself up. "I'm gonna be on TV tomorrow! Hope you've got your pay-per-view sorted, Dad, because I'm gonna be part of WrestleMania!"

"Okay, now I _know_ ya just fuckin' with me," he said. "Darlin', I'm dreamin', right? My little girl didn't just tell me that she's gonna be part of the biggest event there is in her career line."

"Oh, but she did! Dad, I swear, I'm not fucking with you! I'm valeting The Shield. I assume you've heard of them?" Frank had been a huge fan of WWE since the days of WWF, even pre-Monday Night Wars, and still watched it religiously now, refusing to miss any programming or pay-per-views.

The yell of, "WHOOP," that came out of the earpiece had me holding the phone away from my head for about thirty seconds, letting Frank get all the hype out of his system before I tried to talk to him again. "I'm gonna take that as a yes, then. You good there, Daddio? Do you want me to call a hospital near you and get them to send someone with a defibrillator?"

"I can't believe ya just droppin' this on me like this, Annah! I'm an old man, ya tryna give me a heart attack?" he choked out.

"You're fifty-nine, Pops, you ain't that old," I teased. "So, you're happy for me, huh?"

"Baby, I couldn't be prouder of ya right now if I tried."

"Oh my God, Dad, are you crying?"

"Of course I'm fuckin' cryin'! Ya finally gettin' to the top, honey, after all those years ya spent getting the living shit kicked out of ya in Philadelphia an' literally clawin' your way through people to get to the big time."

"Dad..." I said uncomfortably. I hated him talking about my time in CZW. While I'd loved it there, the few times he and Nora had made the journey to see me compete...it had never ended well. As in, I always seemed to end up coated in more blood than usual, Nora threw up and Frank threatened to go and knock the head of whoever I'd been in the ring with- which was usually Ambrose.

"I'm not gettin' on at ya, baby, I promise. I'm just happy that ya made it all worth it."

"Thanks, Dad. You know I'd never have gotten here without you and Momma's support, right? This is all on you."

"Savannah Rose Jordan, the only person ya need to be thankin' for ya success is yaself, and never think otherwise. Ya momma and I just did what we could to help ya out."

"And for that, I'm always gonna be grateful," I said seriously. "I mean it, Dad. Thank you."

"You're welcome, babydoll. Just remember ya old folks when ya become Divas Champion."

"I could never forget you guys, ever. You and Momma made me who I am. I'm always gonna be your baby girl. No matter what my birth certificate says, you're my parents, and I love you."

"And we love ya, Annah. More than anythin'."

I smiled, sitting up and looking at the clock again. "Shit. Dad, I gotta go. I want to get a good ten hours of sleep tonight. Big day tomorrow and all that."

"Of course, baby. Thanks for callin', an' all I'm gonna say is go out there and knock 'em dead, kiddo. You deserve this."

"I love you, Daddy."

"I love ya too, honey pie."

* * *

"Okay, breathe. _Breathe_. Goddamn it, Savannah Rose, just fucking BREATHE!" I said to myself, pacing around the closet-sized room backstage at MetLife Stadium that was my dressing room. For reasons unknown, I was pretty much being segregated from the rest of the female talent. Literally. Their dressing room was like two corridors away, but whatever.

I was in just my pink and black lace bra and black panties, covered up by a white toweling robe. I'd returned from Hair and Make-Up about fifteen minutes ago. My hair had been backcombed violently, my eyes were smokey and seductive, foundation coated my face to vanish any potential blemishes and my lips had been painted a deep red. In short, dayum, I looked good.

A half hour. There were thirty minutes until I walked out to that ring with The Shield. Was I shitting myself? Um...yes. Yes, I was. I hadn't eaten all day, surviving on water, Diet Coke and Red Bull. I was jittery for two reasons; nerves and a serious caffeine overdose. I stripped my robe off and opened up my own make-up bag, pulling out my stage foundation and applying a thick layer to my liver scar. Hi-def cameras plus cropped top equals there was no way in fuck I was going out there with that on display.

I picked up said cropped top and held it up in front of me. Oh fuck. Up close, it looked a little...on the small side. I'd had my measurements taken the day I'd landed, so surely they would have had this made-to-size, right? They wouldn't have just bought a top that was only potentially going to fit me for the biggest day of my damn career...right?! RIGHT?!

"Please God, not today..." I muttered, starting to pull the top over my head, pulling and wriggling as I tried to get it on. At first, it seemed like it was actually go on - I'd managed to get most of it past the main obstacle of my boobs - so I let out a large sigh of relief. The next thing I knew-

 _RIIIIIIP._

A heart-shattering tearing noise echoed through my little dressing room as the entire left-side seam of the top tore halfway apart, exposing the tattoo along the left of my ribs that read _I could be destroyed, but not defeated_. "No!" I cried out desperately, gently pulling it back over my head and gripping the elastic-y material in my hands. "Please, God, no!"

A half hour. I HAD A HALF HOUR UNTIL I WAS SUPPOSED TO GO OUT THERE AND I HAD NO SHIRT. "Fuck!" I now screamed, seizing my phone and scrolling through my various WWE backstage personal contacts I'd recently acquired. I found the one I was searching for and quickly hit Call.

"Hello?" answered Sandra Gray, WWE seamstress and all-around lovely woman.

"Miss Sandra! Oh, thank God, you answered!" I gasped out in relief, my legs nearly giving way. "It's Savannah, the newbie." I resented using the term on myself, but I needed her to recognize me straight away.

"I know who you are, honey, I do have Caller ID."

"Oh. Right. I have a clothing emergency! My top, the elasticated crop you got me, it was too small! It tore almost in half, I've got nothing to wear! I don't know what to do!"

"Well, calm down for one, sweetheart, I've got your back. I know we've got a similar style tank top around here somewhere, give me ten minutes and I'll be able to whip that into something like what you had. I'll bring it by your dressing room myself. You okay with that?"

"Okay?! Jesus, Sandra, that'll be perfect! Thank you so much! I'll hang up now, I don't want to distract you. Bye!" I ended the call before the poor woman could even reply. I sat down cross-legged on the floor, still in my underwear, with my head bent and eyes shut, breathing heavily. It was my usual pre-match chill out, even if I wasn't actually competing myself today.

About five minutes later, there was an abrupt knock at my door. I turned around, frowning. Sandra really did have magic hands if she'd managed to get this sorted out that quickly. I'd have to buy the woman a Starbucks or something to say thank you. I didn't bother putting my robe back on as I went to open the door. I had no reservations about another woman seeing my body, and besides, I doubted there'd be anyone else wandering this corridor when it was so close to kick-off.

"Sandra, I can't thank you enough. I-" I said as I opened the door, but my words caught in my throat. Because it wasn't Sandra Grey at my door. Instead, I found myself facing a solid wall of muscle, black tactical vests, cargo pants and combat boots. Then came those same first words I'd heard when I'd joined FCW almost three years ago, in that same all-too-familiar Cincinnati drawl.

"Well, well, well, look who finally made it to the big time. Little Savannah Rosie-Posie."

The Shield.

The Shield were standing outside my dressing room.

And I was only wearing a bra and panties.

What had I done in a past life to deserve this?

 _Welcome to the WWE, Sav,_ I thought bitterly.

* * *

 **A/N- So first and foremost, sorry for the delay in an update. Coursework is such a bitch. But I still really hope you enjoyed it! Again, thanks to everyone who has read, favourited, followed and reviewed, I hope to see some more of you! Love you all, and it'll be a way quicker update this time, I promise! Xx Gee xX**

 **PS- I've decided to start developing a playlist for** _ **Speared Through The Heart**_ **on YouTube, which I've linked on my profile! It'll consist of songs I feel really relate to the story, plus any songs I've mentioned in the fic itself. So yeah, check it out! It's in the same place as links to Sav's appearance (Holland Roden) and the related Polyvore collection, which I've also updated!**

 _ **Songs for Chapter One-  
Iggy Azalea - Work  
Marina and the Diamonds - Primadonna Girl  
Slipknot - Black Heart (CZW entrance music)  
Rihanna - S&M (phone ringtone)**_

 _ **Songs for Chapter Two-  
Halestorm - You Call Me A Bitch Like It's A Bad Thing**_


	3. WrestleMania Moment

**A/N- Wow. I haven't updated this quickly in a while, so that's pretty damn awesome! Thanks so much, everyone who's following and favouriting! Still hoping for a few more reviews, though, especially now the boys have finally arrived! But of course, big big thanks to XoxoShonKV and crystaltonics for reviewing!** ****

* * *

 **Chapter Three- WrestleMania Moment**

 _ **SavvyAsHellWWE: *sigh* This could only happen to me. Conclusion: Jesus hates me.  
**_ _ **Tweeted 04/07/13 18.48PM**_

I just stood there, mouth agape, hand on the doorknob, trying to decide whether to run, cry or puke. Or do all three. Simultaneously. I didn't get embarrassed easily. In fact, I just didn't get embarrassed, period. But standing here, half-naked in front of the three men I was going to be spending the foreseeable future of my time in WWE with, my face burned up so instantly that I'm surprised I didn't catch fire.

Also...these guys were a lot more attractive than I remembered. Seriously, I swore the three of them had grown about four inches up and ten inches out. Their biceps alone were probably thicker than the circumference of my head. So. I had two choices here. Freak out in the aforementioned way of crying and puking, or act like the cold, calculating ice bitch I was 94.6% of the time. There wasn't really competition, was there?

"You three have certainly filled out since I last saw you," I said coolly, leaning against the door frame with my arms crossed.

"So have you, Rosie," smirked Dean Ambrose, his bright blue eyes lingering on my exposed cleavage.

"And you would know all about that, wouldn't you, Deano?" I shot back, drawing a line in the air with my finger from my boobs to my face. "Eyes up here, asshole, you lost staring rights around the same time you superplexed me from the top rope through a table and broke two of my ribs, chipped my front tooth and split my knee open."

"You were in my way, darlin', you only have yourself to blame for that," he said with a shrug.

"Really? Because I seem to recall it was because you were pissed that I left you butt-ass naked in an alley after a heavy night of drinking."

"Your word against mine, sweet-cheeks."

"My God, you're still a jackass," I said, rolling my eyes.

"I'm sensing history here," piped up Seth Rollins, two-toned ninja extraordinaire.

I snorted. "Wow, you're a real Sherlock Holmes, aren't you? 'History' might be downplaying it just a lot."

Dean turned to the other two men with an infuriating smirk on his lips. "Boys, you are looking at my completely psychopathic, totally unhinged, if extremely sexy, ex-girlfriend."

I smiled sarcastically. "That's really quite an exaggeration, wouldn't you say, Dean? Try ex-fuck buddy."

"Eh, tomato, tomarto."

"I really hate you."

Seth started to laugh. "So what went wrong?"

"Long story short, I started thinking with my brain and not my ovaries," I replied, grinning in spite of myself. Seth's laugh kind of reminded me of Waluigi from the _Mario Bros_ series - yes, I game - and it was three quarters cute and a quarter annoying as fuck. "Plus, a girl has needs. Needs that he could no longer satisfy after a couple of weeks. Though I'm still surprised I found him useful after a couple of _minutes_."

Dean's face flushed red with anger as Seth started to laugh even harder and Roman Reigns managed to actually crack the stoic expression that he wore almost permanently with a smile.

"You never were funny, Jordan," Dean said, breathing heavily out of his nose. Oh yeah, I'd pissed him off hardcore.

"Really? Because your bros sure seem to think I am," I mocked. "Oh Jesus, lighten the fuck up, Moxxy." I hit him with my nickname for him from the Indies. "I'm fucking with you."

"I like her, Ambrose," Seth said, slinging his arm around Dean's shoulders. "Looks like we made a good choice."

I frowned, pushing myself from leaning on the door frame to an actual standing position. "What do you mean, you made a good choice? I thought it was Talent who decided to move me up?"

"Well, yeah, in the grand scheme of things, they did," explained Seth. "But when we said that we thought a girl would do us some good, they gave us the option of like four NXT Divas to help them see which of you would fit with us. They showed us videos, pictures, promos, all that shit. It was between you and one of the others, in the end. Roman here was actually the tie breaker. He thought you were…what was it, big guy? A force to be reckoned with, right?"

"Is that so? I guess I owe this jump in my career to you then, don't I?" I said, shifting my gaze over to the 6'3 Samoan. All he did was nod. "You still don't talk a whole lot, do you, Reigns?"

"He's the strong but silent type," said Dean, clapping Roman on his tattooed shoulder. "What's important is that he packs one fucker of a spear."

"Yeah, no shit," I said. "I've lost count of the amount of times I've thought you've almost snapped some poor ass in half with one of those. Hope you're planning on getting one in today."

"I'm counting on it," Roman said. Oh my God, the man could actually string together four words in a row.

"So you will speak to me," I teased. "Interesting. You should try it more often, I don't bite." Unless he wanted me to. Out of the three men in front of me, Roman – with his intense grey eyes, long shiny black hair, olive-toned skin and tribal tattoo – was easily the hottest. The man was making me feel all kindsa things right now, and none of those feelings were innocent.

"When I want to say something, I'll say it," he replied, echoing the same words he'd used in one of The Shield's very first interviews. "Don't flatter yourself, little girl."

Little girl? Was he being fucking serious? "Ease up, bro, I might not be six foot twenty like you, but five foot six is nothing to be ashamed of," I said, raising an eyebrow. "Fuck, you and Ambrose need to learn to get a sense of humor, otherwise we are gonna be spending a very uncomfortable time together. I make crappy, bitchy jokes. Deal with it." Roman opened his mouth again to say something, but apparently thought against it as he then closed his mouth and settled for glaring at me. I glared back, crossing my arms under my boobs and temporarily forgetting I was still half-naked.

I didn't care how big, tall and scary Roman Reigns thought he was- _no one_ spoke to me like that.

"So," Seth said loudly, clearly the peacemaker of the group as he attempted to diffuse some of the tension that had just settled between myself and Roman. "Don't suppose you've got an explanation for…this?" He gestured at my less-than-appropriate-for-work attire.

"I was starting to change and I ripped my top. I was waiting for Seamstress Sandra to swing by with an emergency replacement when you guys turned up," I answered, just as the woman herself rounded the corner, clutching some black material in her hands. "Speak of the devil. Sandra, it is so great to see you!"

"Sorry it took longer than I expected, honey," she replied, walking up to the four of us and handing me my new gear. "I scrapped the tank top idea and managed to find some elastic material that I could work into something similar to what you had." She looked a little enquiringly at my current clothing situation – or lack thereof – but chose not to comment.

"Thank you so much, Miss Sandra," I said warmly, giving her a hug. "I literally owe you my life."

"Don't mention it, sweetheart," she replied, pulling away and smiling at me. "Now good luck out there, all of you," she added to the boys. "Now if you don't mind, I should get back to finishing off Cameron and Naomi's gear."

"You three need to leave so I can get dressed," I said the second Sandra left.

"Little redundant, don't you think, Rosie?" Dean said with a smirk. "I mean, these two have already seen nearly everything you've got to offer, and I've seen it all. You've got nothin' to hide from us, sweetheart."

"Look, pervert, take your boys and fuck off!" I burst out. "I have fifteen minutes until the biggest moment of my entire career, and to be honest, so do you! Go do some fucking pre-match warm-ups or whatever and meet me by the stair doors, okay!? Please! Just give me ten minutes."

Dean raised his eyebrows so high they practically disappeared into his hairline. "Damn, Savannah, maybe you're the one who needs to learn to take a fucking joke. Alright, we're going. Don't be late, for fuck sake, because we'll happily go out there without you."

"Oh, eat me, Ambrose!" I snapped, storming back into my dressing room and slamming the door.

"Already have, Jordan!" I heard him shout back before the door closed. I gave it a week before I killed him and buried him under one of the arenas.

* * *

Okay. My game face was officially on. Ten minutes. I had ten minutes to get dressed and calm down. I could do this. Today was the day I had been waiting my entire life for. I could not and would not fuck this up. How I was perceived for the rest of my WWE career depended on today.

I was so grateful I'd had my hair and make-up before this, because if I hadn't, I probably would have been in the midst of a breakdown right now, and my breakdowns _never_ went well. I'm talking breakdowns that involved punching holes in walls, bleeding knuckles, breaking glass, tearing out hair and screaming ugly swear words at the sky.

I pulled on the ripped skinny jeans and the heeled boots first before - gently - pulling my new shirt down over my head, and praise Jesus, this one went on easily. It looked incredible: the material stretched across my chest but left all of my stomach on display aside from two strips of material that crossed over just under the first block of black. The straps were also just strips of material that also crossed over, leaving most of the pale skin of my back on display. Not that you saw this once I shrugged on the leather jacket and fastened the fingerless gloves on my hands.

I stood in front of the mirror, ran my hands through my hair then tweaked my jacket by slightly jerking it forward by the lapels. "Believe in The Shield, motherfuckers." I gave myself a couple of minutes to collect myself – snapping a selfie and sending a Tweet in those minutes – then brushed my hair back and headed out the door and down the corridor to meet the boys.

I found Seth and Roman in our allocated position, both of them finishing up pouring half-full bottles of water over their heads to wet their hair. I felt like the damp look shouldn't have worked as being attractive, but I stood corrected.

"Hey Savannah," Seth said when he straightened up to brush his hair back and saw me. "Woah. You look, like… I mean, nice gear."

"Just Sav," I automatically corrected. "I don't really like my full name. I'm Savannah in the ring. That's it. But thanks. I forgot to say earlier, you three don't look half bad yourselves."

"We try," Seth joked. I was really starting to like this guy. It looked like my early opinion of him just being a cocky twat was rapidly being proved wrong. My opinion of Roman Reigns had also changed. However, it wasn't for the better. Now, I just thought he was a bit of a dick. He'd helped them decide on me to be their 'girl,' to use the term the rest of the roster had apparently applied to me – but was making it pretty obvious that he didn't like me. So what gave, I didn't know. But I was going to find out.

Right now, all he was doing was staring at me indifferently, like I wasn't really there, though he had nodded at me when Seth had greeted me. We were gonna start having problems if he didn't pull this apparent stick out of his ass.

"So," I said, clapping my hands together once. "What's the game plan for this, boys? Where do you want me?"

"It's probably gonna be a good idea for you to stick to the outside of the ring for this one, Sav," said Seth. "It's your first appearance, and the guys we're up against aren't gonna fuck around. We've pissed them off, so they want our blood. That won't happen, obviously, but we don't want you caught in the crossfire."

"Sounds fair," I said with a shrug. "What about walking in? You want me to stick to the back of the line, or…?"

"We're splitting up for this one. Dean and I are gonna take the right stairs. You and Roman take the left," he explained. Me and Roman walking out together. Oh joy. Because we'd hit it off so well. But to be fair, that did make sense. The left stairs were where I'd practiced walking from anyway.

I pursed my lips and nodded once. "You got it. You know, Sethie, I'm starting to see why they call you the Architect of the team. You're clearly the only one who knows what the fuck is going on. But, er, speaking of the team, we seem to be missing a member. A lewd, crude, obnoxious member. Where the fuck is Ambrose?" And he'd had the nerve to suggest that I was the one who'd be late.

"He's preparing your initiation, Rosie." Dean's voice filtered up behind me, making me jump, and the next thing I registered was ice cold water being poured over my head. I let out a shriek and spluttered, blinking the water out of my eyes. It trickled uncomfortably down the inside of my jacket and down my back, and also made its way down the front of my top too.

I turned around slowly to see Dean standing there, his signature smug grin on his face, an empty bottle of Fiji in his hand. I knew the reaction he wanted from me was to kick off and start shit, and there was _no – fucking – way_ I would give him that satisfaction. So instead I just smiled sweetly at him and said through my gritted teeth, "You are so fucking lucky that my make-up is waterproof."

"You were too refined to be a member of The Shield," he defended himself. "Now you have the look." He reached out and ruffled my now-flat hair with his hand for good measure.

My smile was now extremely strained. "Thanks Deano, I appreciate the concern."

"Any time, Rosie, any time."

"Shield to your mark!" a stagehand suddenly called out. "The Shield to your mark! We go live in five, you're out in just over ten, let's go!"

The second the stagehand said that, the mood shifted entirely. Gone was the joking, gone was the light-heartedness. What replaced it was just dead seriousness. The boys looked at each other, they nodded (what was with all the nodding going on?!) and bro-fisted for a fleeting second.

"Let's go leave our names on WrestleMania, boys and girl," said Dean, cracking his neck to the side.

"Let's do this thang," I said. "See you in a few." I grabbed hold of Roman's arm and began pulling him down the corridor in the opposite direction to Seth and Dean. He strode purposefully while I skipped alongside him with my hand tucked into the crook of his elbow.

"What are you doing?" he asked, looking down at me with his eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

"Trying to lighten the mood," I replied, shaking my dripping hair back and catching sight of myself in a passing window- hey, I actually suited it. Who'da thunk it. "You seem fucking tense, dude. I mean, I don't know what your problem is with me, but-"

"I don't have a problem with you," he interrupted me, slowing to a stop as we reached our exit point. I could hear _Coming Home_ by Diddy-Dirty Money and Skylar Grey blaring throughout the arena, not to mention the deafening amount of cheers: we were officially live. "This is the biggest day of my career. I just don't want to fuck it up."

"Well you don't have to take that out on me," I pointed out. "I'm here to be your amusing little sidekick, not your emotional punching bag."

"Kid, you're not a sidekick," Roman replied. "You're...a sister. If you play your cards right."

"Don't call me 'kid' ever again," I warned him, because for some weird reason the comment about 'playing my cards right' had severely pissed me off. Like he actually had the right to decide what my role was within The Shield was. "I'm twenty-five and you're, what, twenty-seven? Give me a break and don't patronize me."

"Are you always this defensive?" he asked, eyebrows raised.

"When people fuck me off, I sure am." I turned my head away from him because if I stayed looking into those grey eyes any longer I was probably going to slap him.

A nearby monitor was broadcasting what was being shown to the world on pay-per-view, and currently it was recapping the last few months since the Royal Rumble, including CM Punk taking on Undertaker's Streak, the whole Triple H/Brock Lesnar feud, and of course the lead-up to the main event: John Cena vs The Rock for the WWE Championship. But suddenly they weren't playing a recap. They were showing the crowd cheering and yelling, followed by a close up of the ramp entrance. Then Sheamus' music hit as his entrance flashed up on the LED boards.

 _It's a shame that they lost their head_ _,_ _  
A careless man who could wind up dead_ _._

Ohhhh, shit. It was go time.

 _I hear voices in my head,  
They council me, they understand._

No turning back now. I was officially in this bitch for good.

 _Well, it's a big show,  
It's a big, bad show tonight._

Was it too late to vomit? It was probably too late to vomit.

"How you holding up?" Roman asked me, and it was only then that I realised I'd subconsciously grabbed hold of his hand and was hanging on for dear life. Fuck, where had that earlier show of cocky defensiveness gone?! I quickly let go and shook myself out, squaring my shoulders.

"I'm good. Scratch that, I'm great," I said confidently. "Let's go raise some fucking hell."

"You look a little...pale," he commented.

"Hey, that's just my skin!" I said defensively. "Blame the ginger. Sheamus would get me." I reached up and fluffed my hair out, practically beginning to buzz with anticipation. Just in time for the adrenaline boost to kick in, too, because that was when The Shield's music - or, _our_ music, I should say - began to play out.

 _Sierra. Hotel. India. Echo. Lima. Delta. Shield._

The second the drums and guitars hit, Roman shoved the doors open and the two of us began to make our way down the stairs, but nothing had prepared me for the sheer volume and capacity of the crowds surrounding us. Though we had security with us, hands patted at us from every angle as a cameraman walked backwards in front of us.

"And their opponents, being accompanied to the ring by Savannah, at a combined weight of seven hundred and seven pounds," announced Lilian Garcia. "Seth Rollins, Dean Ambrose and Roman Reigns: _The Shield_!"

It was insanity. How I didn't fall over in these heels with the amount of people shoving at me just to touch myself or Roman was a mystery. As we drew closer to the ring, I could start to hear the commentary, and tuned in on a _hilarious_ (not) quip from Jerry 'The King' Lawler about how it was going to take us a couple of hours just to make it to the ring.

"Yes, but is anyone going to talk about the apparent new addition to The Shield's ranks?" Micheal Cole asked rhetorically. "The scarlet-haired vixen you see before you is Savannah Jordan, fresh from NXT, ladies and gentlemen, and she is making her WWE debut here, today, at WrestleMania!"

 _The scarlet-haired vixen...the Scarlet Vixen...I can make that work_ , I thought as Roman and I climbed up onto a small platform that elevated us above the crowds, just as I saw Dean and Seth do the same thing to our right. They were getting hyped up, Seth punching at the sky with his fists and Dean settling into a fight stance. I figured I'd get into the zone as well and threw my head back, letting out the guttural scream I always did before a match (it fit with the battle style I had going on). Roman had apparently had the same idea, as he threw out his arms and let out the roar he did whenever he called for the triple powerbomb. To be perfectly honest, if he did that again then there was a high chance I was gonna need a change of underwear before the night was out.

But as we stopped screaming, we lowered our heads and turned to look at each other, both of us frowning. We had the same expression, and that expression was of, 'Bro, did you just steal my thing?'

"-Ambrose, Rollins and Reigns have yet to be defeated since arriving in WWE," Cole was saying. "Something Savannah can identify with, coming from NXT with an unbroken undefeated streak lasting almost two months." _Yeah. I could identify, and nobody had better fucking forget that._

Roman raised his fist towards Dean and Seth, who raised theirs back, and in unison the four of us jumped down from our platforms and continued our way to the ring. As we reached the barrier, Roman's sheer size prevented him from doing any of the fancy little cartwheels or handsprings Seth usually pulled off, instead choosing to just hoist himself over instead. I myself planted my hands on the thick padded barricade and vaulted over in a leapfrog fashion, landing perfectly on my heeled feet.

The three of them began to circle the ring in that 'pack of wolves' style of theirs, staring down Sheamus, Orton and Show, so I thought it'd probably be best for me to do the same thing. We circled once before regrouping in our corner, facing the opponents already in the ring.

"You're going down!" Seth shouted at them, and all three smirked arrogantly back.

"Chill, bro, the last thing you want is to rile them up more than you already have," I muttered, placing my hand on his elbow. "Sheamus could take your head off with one well-timed Brogue Kick, and that is not the way you want to start this match. Get Reigns in to start, he matches on power."

"We've got our plan sorted, little lady, no need for the input," Dean hissed back, but Seth put his arm out in a 'shut up' gesture.

"She's got a point, Dean," he murmured. "It makes sense. Roman, you okay with that, big guy?"

Roman shrugged once. "Sure." That was all it took. The three of them moved and climbed up onto the apron, me remaining on the floor and leaning my arms on the ring by Dean's feet as Roman slipped between the ropes and settled into the corner just as the bell rang. The two men circled each other for a second, and then it was _on_.

Roman began to dominate pretty quickly until Sheamus managed to overpower him and rammed the Samoan with one hell of a clothesline. I couldn't help but flinch back when I heard the initial impact of Roman's back smacking into the mat.

"Shit!" I mumbled as Sheamus went for the first pin of the match, but luckily Roman got the shoulder up at one.

 _Slap_. Tag made to Randy Orton. That set up for a nice bit of double-team work from him and Sheamus, using both their combined strength to slam Roman back down to the mat, leaving him no doubt a little disoriented.

"Come on, Roman, get outta there!" Seth called, just as Orton hit Roman with a knee drop before stomping on his face. "Come on!"

"Let's go, Roman! Get up!" I shrieked. My cry of encouragement did precisely fuck all as Orton just began to tear Roman apart piece by piece...until Roman kneed the Apex Predator in the gut. Using the separation to his advantage, he quickly got back to our corner and made a tag to Seth, who quite literally catapulted himself into the ring.

Only to run into a dropkick from Orton.

"Goddamn it!" I yelled, then clamped my hands over my mouth. No need for emotional outbursts yet, it was still anyone's match. Or at least, I could keep kidding myself this as I watch Seth get backed up into the corner of the ring and proceed to have Orton slap the shit out of him. Randy dominated for a little while, making a tag back to Sheamus, but soon Seth got the upper hand again and forced the Irishman into The Shield's corner, tagging in Dean as he did so.

The two of them started kicking and stomping on Sheamus repeatedly, forcing the ref to break it up and make Seth leave the ring. I smiled up at him as he slipped past me on the apron, and he grinned back down. However, we promptly stopped all the smiling as we realised Sheamus was handing Dean his ass on a silver platter, actually going for another pin that Dean broke.

Okay, now I was beginning to get tense, biting one of my black-polished nails as Big Show tagged himself in. That was two pin attempts on The Shield, whereas they hadn't made any yet. Maybe it was all part of the boys' plan, but to me...shit, it didn't look good.

"Motherfucker!" I hissed as Show headbutted Dean with such force he collapsed, crawling to the ropes to haul himself into a standing position. Bad mistake, apparently, as Show seized hold of Dean by the shoulder and pinned him there, proceeding to...wait...what the actual fuck.

Show rapidly undid Dean's tactical vest and pulled it off before tearing all down his tank top and delivering what I can only describe as a tit-slap to Dean's chest. Oh, fuck me, that must have felt like getting beaten with a frying pan. I don't even think I was exaggerating either, because Dean literally sank to his knees, clutching at himself.

"Dean!" I cried out desperately as Roman began to...I don't know, scream in encouragement or something. He was making that roaring noise of his in Dean's direction, anyway. It was enough encouragement though, as Dean gave Show a smack and started yelling some inaudible trash-talk at him, only to receive about seven more chest slaps, an Irish whip into the opposite ring post and 450 pounds of Big Show booty slammed into him for his trouble.

But just as it looked like Show was about to totally crush Dean, Ambrose hit him with a low dropkick that sent the giant down and gave him time to roll to our corner and tag Seth back in.

"Heard you calling my name," he murmured to me as he slipped out of the ring to get his breath back, impatiently pulling the remains of his shirt off at the same time. "Getting worried about me, were you, Rosie?"

"Don't flatter yourself, Deano," I murmured back, trying not to openly stare at his abs. Fuck, he really had filled out. "I was more concerned about you losing your first WrestleMania match and fucking up this undefeated streak of yours that everyone's harping on about."

"Mhm. That's why your face went even fucking whiter than it already is; because you weren't scared for me, right?" he asked with a smirk.

"Shouldn't have been paying attention to me when your focus should have been on not having your ribs broken with one slap, should ya?" I retorted.

"Hey! Guys!" Roman hissed at us from his position on the apron, and we both looked up at him. "The match, remember?" Oh yeah. Right. Dean quickly jumped back up as I settled back to sit in the space between the two of them, twisting my body so I still faced into the ring. Seth was actually going for a pin on Big Show, who threw him off at one. And I mean _threw_. Seth went sailing about a metre off the ring, landing face-first with a thud. It probably would have done less damage to him if he'd been hit by a car.

Seth hesitated for a second, seeing that Show was still down, then darted over and tagged in Roman. The Samoan was _fired up_ , exploding off the ropes and almost decapitating Big Show with a flying clothesline. He immediately went for a tag, but of course, Show powered out. While he was still down, though, Roman began to pelt him with elbow drops and quickly reached out to tag in Dean.

It was only now that I really wished WWE allowed intergender matches where a girl could actually fight a guy. I'd have given my right arm to physically be a part of this match and contribute something worthwhile instead of just standing here, shouting encouragement and beating my fists on the mat. I'd spent most of my career taking on guys more often than girls, and I did miss it a little. Not that I wasn't grateful for the road my career had now taken!

Dean was planting Show in the ribs with his boot, never giving Show the opportunity to make it back to his feet. He dragged the 450-pounder to our corner and pressed his face up against the ropes as the ref tried to get him to let go, eventually being forced to count for a potential DQ. Dean soon backed off after that.

Not that he backed up far, though, because he soon had Show back in our corner and allowed Seth to tag himself in. Rollins used his ninja moves to lay a pretty sweet beatdown on Show for a while to the point where I really thought he had it when he went for a pin. I let out a frustrated scream when Show got the shoulder up, as did Seth. They were all starting to get a little worn down now, I could tell. Seth quickly made another tag to Roman.

With a cry, Roman jumped up and stamped on Show's chest, causing the giant to practically curl up on himself. A few headbutts and a sleeper hold later, Show was fading, and fading fast. Seth, Dean and I were all calling for him to give up, to tap and end the match, but I actually started to wonder if he could even hear us. Orton and Sheamus were also calling out to Show, trying to empower him to fight and tag out, but it was pretty futile, if you asked me. I was beginning to get cocky now, so sure that The Shield had it in the bag that I climbed up and stood on the apron, blew a kiss at the opposition and winked. They both scowled heavily back at me.

"Looks like you've still got some Savannah Rose in there, huh?" Dean mumbled.

"Savannah Rose is buried, Dean," I answered quietly. "She's never gonna come back." Even if I did desperately miss my alter ego sometimes, I knew it was best to just try to kill her off. I couldn't risk reverting to her ways when there would be kids in the audience.

All three of us on the apron flinched back as Big Show suddenly got a surge of power and picked Roman up before dropping him on his back like a sack of puppies. Both men remained down, but Roman managed to crawl to our corner and slap Seth's hand. The Architect was back in the game.

"Oh Jesus!" I yelled as Seth flew across the ring and hit Orton with one hell of a dropkick that left the Viper in a heap outside the ring. How did he do shit like this?! However, as Seth turned back to his real target, Big Show suddenly grabbed hold of him and threw him over his shoulder like a ragdoll, managing to crawl to his own corner to tag in Sheamus.

I began to feel that earlier cockiness start to drain from me as Sheamus really laid into Seth. He tossed him from one side of the ring to the other before throwing him outside the ring on our side. Seth managed to land on the apron, but Sheamus was there to pull him back and set him up for the Beats of the Bodhran. And apparently setting Seth up for the forearm clubs also involved tearing through his tactical vest like Show had done to Dean and yanking his tank top over his head. Holy fuck, this was more ab than I ever expected to see on my first day. I was starting to get slightly flustered.

Ten clubs to the chest later, I actually had to physically push Seth back in the direction of the ring when the ref wasn't looking to stop him falling headfirst off the apron. Not my best decision, because I pushed him right back into Sheamus, who seized hold of him and hoisted him over his shoulders.

Dean, seeing my fuck up, quickly slapped Seth on the ass (my God, the fanfiction wrote itself) to tag himself in and the ref forced Sheamus to let go of Seth. Which he did. Physically dropping Seth over the side of the ring so he landed on the floor.

"Oh my God, Seth, I'm sorry! This is my fault!" I whispered frantically, dropping to my knees next to him as he let out a pained moan.

"It's okay, Sav," he groaned. "You didn't-" but he got cut off by the audience starting to count to ten again, and as we looked up we saw Sheamus delivering those same blows to Dean, who was still shirtless. Seth quickly got to his feet and rolled back into the ring, but he just sort of laid there as Sheamus hit Dean with a rolling senton. Seth then tried to defend Seth, but Sheamus quickly scooped him up and dropped him onto Dean with the same move.

"Shit," Roman muttered as we saw Sheamus climbing to the top rope, and the next thing I knew, he'd darted down from where he'd been standing and across the ring to grab hold of Sheamus by the leg and forcibly pull him down, sending his pale ass crashing to the ground. Dean slid out of the ring and he and Roman began to brutally kick Sheamus, but Orton soon came to break that up, colliding with Roman so violently that as his arms went out so he could steady himself, he accidentally hit me in the shin and caused me to lose my balance so I fell from the apron and landed on my ass. Hard.

Someone was about to die.

As Orton began to attack Dean and Roman remained on the floor from how hard Orton had hit him, I climbed to my feet with my fists clenched. Seeing a tiny pause in Orton's attack, I took the chance to distract him by tapping him on the shoulder so he turned around.

"HEY! ASSMONKEY!" I roared, and - checking the ref's attention was elsewhere - my glove-clad palm connected with his cheek with a violent cracking noise. I heard Dean utter the typical male, " _Ohh_!" noise beside me when Seth suddenly came flying out from between the middle and top rope and sent himself and Orton smack into the barricade. How neither of them broke their neck on impact, I didn't know.

"Fuck!" I shouted, panicked, totally forgetting about things being PG as Seth just sort of crumpled at my feet.

"Come on, come on," Roman kept repeating, practically dragging Seth to a standing position. "You gotta get in there," he said, shoving the disoriented man into the ring. I didn't even know who the legal man was anymore. Dean quickly forced Sheamus back into the ring as well and followed him, as did Roman. Oh man. I knew what this meant. Everyone knew what this meant.

Sure enough, Roman began to motion at his shoulders as Seth and Dean seized Sheamus by the arms. Seeing an opening to bring my little gimmick from NXT to the main roster, I quickly climbed up to the top rope, hooking my heels over the rope to keep my balance and screamed out, "LET ME HEAR YOUR WAR CRY!"

Roman looked at me for a fleeting second, but didn't even think twice as he let out the roar to signal the triple powerbomb was coming. Dean and Seth hauled Sheamus to his feet and lifted him up to hook his legs over Roman's shoulders. They were ready to drop the Irishman and end the match, when outta nowhere came Big Show, spearing all three of them so they were forced to pull the plug on the powerbomb as all five men dropped to the ground.

I quickly jumped down from the rope to avoid getting knocked off again, taking in the sight of the bodies just lying around in the ring. "Boys, come on! _Come on_!" I cried, slapping at the top padding in a rhythmic fashion. "Jesus Christ, stop acting like bitches and _get up_! Do you want to win or not?!"

Seth and Roman both rolled out of the ring, landing in a small heap below me, whereas Dean - who I now worked out was still the legal man - was lying half in, half out of the ring. As he took the time to get his bearings back, Sheamus managed to crawl over to his corner to try and tag in Show. Fuck. Dean was about to get flattened. But before Show could make the tag, Orton slithered up from nowhere and slapped the top of Sheamus' head, tagging himself in instead. He hit Dean with a few clotheslines, a powerslam and the vintage Orton DDT-from-the-ropes before getting ready to hit Dean with an RKO.

That was it. We were fucked. The Shield were about to lose their first match.

But just as Randy went for Dean, Seth appeared on the top rope and launched himself at Orton, so he quickly swapped direction and it ended up being Seth who got the RKO. But in the distraction of the ref forcing Seth back out of the ring, Roman got into the ring and ran at Orton, almost cutting him in half with a spear. Oh my God. Oh my God, if Dean capitalized on this, then there was a chance that we could actually win. Sure enough, the ref turned back to face the action just as Dean got Orton's shoulders down and hooked his legs.

One. Two. Three. The bell.

The scream of victory that came flooding out of my mouth was so deafening that there was a chance I could have burst someone's eardrums with it. As our music played out, Roman and Seth managed to roll their way back into the ring whilst I threw myself through the middle and top ropes, pulling Dean into such a tight hug I was probably choking him.

"You did good, Ambrose," I murmured into his bare chest, which I had my head pressed against due to him being almost a foot taller than me. "I'm proud of you."

"You didn't do too bad yourself, Jordie," he murmured back, using another old nickname as he ruffled my now no longer wet but damp and extremely frizzy hair before he squeezed me back. I let him go as Seth weakly slung his arm around Dean's shoulders while the ref lifted his other arm and Roman's in victory, so I held up Dean's arm too. But as the ref lowered their arms, Dean suddenly pulled me so I was standing in the middle of him and Seth, and the two of them ducked down and slipped their arms between my legs, lifting me up on their shoulders.

I shrieked with laughter as I held my own arm up and yelled, "Believe in The Shield!" before they lowered me back down. The three of them were almost dead on their feet as we made our way out of the ring and over the barricade, heading back through the hyped up crowd, but it didn't matter.

I'd made my debut. The boy had won their first ever WrestleMania match. We'd done it, and we'd done it together. I was part of a team...and it was something that I thought I could actually get used to.

* * *

 **A/N- This turned out longer than I expected, but that's gotta be a good thing, right? Really hoped you liked Sav meeting the boys, I'd love to know what you thought! Review, guys, it really means the world to me! So, until next time, love you all! Xx Gee xX**

 **PS- Usual trailer/playlist/Polyvore reminder!**

 _ **Songs for Chapter Three-  
**_ _ **Iggy Azalea - Walk The Line  
**_ _ **In This Moment - Bloody Creature Poster Girl**_


	4. Drunk and Disorderly

**A/N- Hello, dear readers! I'm back! Sorry for the delay, I know it sucks on my part, especially since this chapter is a little shorter than usual. I hope you can forgive me. Either way, I want to give my usual mahoosive thanks to crystaltonics and Josie for reviewing!**

* * *

 **Chapter Four- Drunk and Disorderly**

 _ **SavvyAsHellWWE: Currently torn between 'fuck you' and 'I want to fuck you'… (No, Dean, I do not mean you) #IndirectTweet  
**_ _ **Tweeted 04/08/13 01.26AM**_

The second we were backstage again, I was practically bouncing up and down, I was so euphoric. "Guys!" I squealed, clapping my hands animatedly. "That was incredible! I can't believe how well you did! I mean, not saying that I didn't have faith, because of course I did, but I never expected it to feel this amazing! We won! We actually won! This is-"

My voice cut off with an, "Umph!" as Dean clamped his hand over my mouth and calmly said, "We did good, boys. Maybe now those fuckers will back off. Gotta hand it to you, Rosie, never seen a chick nail Orton quite like that before." I shrugged and rolled my eyes, considering Dean still had a firm grip over my mouth.

Seth brushed his hair back. "Well, if they don't, I've got no problem going through all that again to prove our point. Don't fuck with The Shield."

"Still undefeated, my brothers," said Roman, holding out his fist which Dean and Seth immediately bumped. He then turned to look at me. "Hopefully that continues tomorrow night."

I bit Dean's hand - hard - to force him to let go of me so I could lay into Roman. "Jesus fuck!" he yelped, pulling his hand back rapidly and inspecting it for damage. "I forgot you were a biter."

I ignored him, taking two steps forward so I was about three inches away from Roman's chest and craned my head up to look the Samoan dead in the eye. "You better step the fuck back, Reigns, because I've known you a grand total of forty-five minutes and you are already seriously beginning to piss me off. Whatever happened to not having a problem with me?"

Why did every hot guy I came into contact with have to be a major dickweed?

"I told you, baby girl, I've got no problem with you," Roman said with a shrug. "I'm just saying that I don't want anything messed up."

" _Baby girl_?" I said disbelievingly. "You are dangerously close to getting punched in the mouth."

"Okay, let's not start this again," Seth said quickly, grabbing hold of the top of Roman's arm and pulling him away as we continued to glower at each other. "What the hell is going on between you two?"

"Hey! Don't fucking blame me, Two-Face, he's the one starting shit!" I protested.

"Two-Face? What?" Seth frowned, looking highly confused.

"Two-Face? From _Batman_? Guy got acid burned all down one side of his body?" I elaborated. "Because your hair is two colours? No? Seriously? Urgh, you know what, never mind. My point is, _he_ -" I pointed accusingly at Roman. "-is the one who fucking jumped down my throat the second he spoke to me! I am the innocent party here!"

"You've got a bad attitude, Savannah," Roman snapped.

" _I've_ got a bad attitude?! Are you fucking kidding me? I have been nothing but sweetness and light since you met me - you know, literally earlier today! - and I have given you absolutely no attitude other than when I feel the need to defend myself! What the fuck gives?!"

"Okay, stop!" said Dean, raising his voice above mine. "Stop, stop, stop! Rosie, when you're pissed, your voice goes all high-pitched and whiny and it's giving me a headache."

"Stop calling me Rosie!" I shouted, turning my sudden temper snap on Dean. "I'm not her anymore, Dean, don't you fucking understand that?! My name is _Sav_!" I was getting so worked up that I was starting to hyperventilate.

"Hey!" Dean put his hands on my shoulders and shook me- not too gently either. "Calm the fuck down, Ros- Sav! Look at me and breathe, okay?! Just fucking breathe!" How the hell could Ambrose remember how to calm me down after all these years? I fixed my hazel eyes on his blues and breathed in heavily through my nose and out of my mouth. "See? You don't have to go off like a psycho every time someone challenges you, do you? Now, why don't you be a little sweetheart and apologise?"

"Oh, like fuck am I-" I started to snarl, then cut myself off. Instead, I set my mouth in a grim line and turned to Roman. "I'm so sorry for yelling at you for no reason, Roman," I said sweetly.

Roman smirked. "Apology accepted, baby girl." I didn't miss the subtle emphasis he put on the last two words, no doubt just to piss me off a little more.

My hand curled into a fist at my side but I decided not to let him get the better of me. Instead, I flipped my hair back and said, "You know what? We should all go out tonight, after the pay-per-view finishes broadcasting. Hit a bar or something. You guys won your first ever WrestleMania match, I made my debut, those things deserve to be celebrated!"

"That don't sound like a bad idea, darlin'," Dean said thoughtfully, rubbing at his chin. "Anywhere you wanna go?"

"Not the hotel bar," I said immediately. "That's where everyone's gonna be. I don't want to be where everyone is. I saw this great looking club only like a block away from the hotel. We could walk there and back. We are all in the same hotel, right?"

"WWE only books the one hotel, Sav," Seth explained. "We're on the fourth floor."

I frowned. "Huh. Y'know, I'm on the fifth so I'm kinda surprised we didn't run into each other like, at all. Either way, you all in or what?"

"I like the sound of that," Seth said. "What do you say, boys? Take the rest of the night off?"

Dean made some form of grunt of agreement. "I'm not one to turn down booze."

Roman just shrugged.

I rolled my eyes at him before turning to the other two. "Well, since that's a three against one decision, looks like we're gonna get smashed and we're gonna par-tay." Hypothetically. I was hoping I'd be able to control myself, because every time Dean and I had gone out drinking together in the past, it had always ended very messily. I'd gotten into fights with other girls, into fights with club bouncers who then barred me from the club, danced on the tables, smashed glasses then threatened people with the remains, one time I'd passed out in a puddle of my own vomit, or if all else failed, Dean and I had ended up in bed together. Obviously there was no hope in hell of that last scenario happening, but the other ones…more than likely.

"This should be an interesting night," Dean drawled, looking me up and down. "How's that alcohol tolerance now, Jordie?"

"Um…improved," I said tentatively, not wanting Dean to announce to Seth and Roman my old true colours. "But we'll leave the rest of that statement where it is, shall we? We shall."

Dean snorted. "Hey, remember that time you-"

"Dean, I mean this with all the love and respect a girl can give her ex: Shut. The. Fuck. Up. Now," I interrupted, my voice low.

"What did she do?" Seth asked with a snort.

"If you value that blonde patch you've got going on, you will shut up and stop asking questions before I tear it out," I calmly warned.

"There was this one time where the bartender tried to cut her off after her twelfth shot of tequila, so she climbed onto the bar and-"

"DEAN!"

"ALRIGHT!"

I cleared my throat and attempted to bring a little sanity back to this dwindling situation. "Awesome, so we're officially hitting the town. If we get outta here at ten on the dot, I'll only need like twenty minutes, a half hour to get ready, so we can all meet in the lobby at say...ten forty-five?"

"A girl that takes less than two hours to get ready?" teased Seth. "Now this, I have to see."

"I'm not like other girls, baby," I retorted. "The sooner you all realise that, the better." After I exchanged numbers with the three of them - yes, even Roman, though this was begrudgingly - we headed into one of the back rooms to watch the rest of the pay-per-view.

It was so cool watching it this way, knowing that the action was happening just mere feet away. Team Hell No retained their tag team titles against Dolph Ziggler and Big E Langston. Fandango defeated Y2J himself, Chris Jericho. Alberto del Rio retained his Heavyweight Championship against Jack Swagger. The Undertaker added a win over CM Punk to his undefeated Streak, making it 21-0. Triple H defeated Brock Lesnar and therefore wasn't forced to retire. And naturally, John Super Cena defeated The Rock to become the WWE Champion. Again.

"Well that was fun," I commented as the screen went back, standing up and stretching my arms over my head. "I'm gonna get out of here. My shower is calling me and I don't want to take one here. See you fuckers back at the hotel, I guess. Lates." I gathered up my discarded leather jacket and _Lilo and Stitch_ tote and headed out of the room, giving the boys a final wave. They all called separate variations of the word 'bye.' I wasn't all that far down the corridor when I heard them start talking about me. Apparently I hadn't shut the door.

"And you seriously dated _her_?" Roman said incredulously, the second he thought I was out of earshot. I froze and backed up a few steps, wanting to listen in on what these guys truly thought of me.

"Technically for two years. If being on and off the entire time counts as two years," Dean corrected. ". I mean, shit, she was only like twenty. It felt like cradle-snatching."

"Why, how old were you?"

"About twenty-two, but still. Point remains."

"She's a fucking spitfire, that's for damn sure," said Seth. "She's gonna be a handful."

"Do you think she's gonna be worth it?" said Roman. "She's making it pretty obvious that she's got some...issues." _Issues? Oh, baby boy, you have no idea._

"She'll be worth it," Dean said confidently. "Yeah, okay, Sav does have serious issues. Always has done. But I'm not exactly a gushy kinda guy, and she moves like magic in the ring. She's talented, and she ain't afraid of shit. She'll do us some good."

"I still don't know about her," mumbled Roman. "She's only been on the damn roster three hours and she's already being difficult."

"Why _have_ you taken such an instant dislike to each other, anyway?" questioned Seth.

"I never said I didn't like her," Roman argued. "I said she's got a bad attitude."

"She's not got a bad attitude, that's just her fucking personality. She's a complete bitch when she wants to be, and you pissed her off somehow," said Dean nonchalantly.

"What the fuck did I do to her?!" demanded Roman.

"I don't fucking know how girls' brains work, bro! Just don't piss her off _too_ much," Dean replied with a chuckle. "I've got scars from that girl. She'll tear your arm off then laugh about it."

"So all those times you've run your mouth about how unstoppable you were in the Independents…and yet you neglected to mention you got your ass handed to you by a girl?" Seth literally couldn't keep the amusement out of his voice.

"She was fucking insane when we were in CZW!" Dean said defensively. "But I'll admit, she nearly made history. Almost became the first girl to go up for the CZW World Heavyweight Championship."

 _And I would have done it if you hadn't got me disqualified in my qualifying match, you dickhead,_ I thought bitterly, the memory still raw in my mind. I'd been so fucking close…

"Divas Champion material?" asked Roman.

"Easily." I heard a chair scrape back. "So are we getting outta here or what? I'd actually like to be in a bar before midnight and I know how long it takes you ladies to do your hair."

"Excuse us for not wanting to look like we've fallen headfirst out of a dive bar," retorted Seth.

"…I resent that," Dean muttered, and this was followed by the sound of two more chairs scraping back. Oh shit, they were leaving. That was my cue to get the fuck out of here. The last thing I wanted was for them to discover me eavesdropping on their conversation. I turned on my heel and took off down the corridor, hoping my shoes didn't make too much noise as I made my great escape. I was out of the arena and in a cab on my way back to the hotel within five minutes.

* * *

"Stacy's mom has got it goin' on! She's all I want, and I've waited for so lo-o-ong!" I sang in the shower, loudly and out-of-tune. Because who didn't love to listen to some ironic 90s rock-pop when getting ready for a night out? This was going to be my first proper night out in...months. Maybe even in the last year. It probably goes without saying, but I wasn't exactly 'friends' with any of the people in NXT, and I never went drinking by myself anymore because I was scared I could I lose control.

Maybe that was why I was putting so much effort in to tonight. I wasn't...I don't know, I wasn't afraid. I was going to a bar with three two hundred-plus pound men. If they couldn't stop me from drinking myself unconscious then clearly I deserved to end up in the ER getting my stomach pumped again. But I wasn't going to let myself get in that state again. I promised myself the second I signed to WWE/FCW/NXT that the wild, Savannah Rose side of me was done for.

I shut the shower off and stepped out, tossing my wet hair over my shoulders as I wrapped myself up in my towel. It was time to make myself halfway presentable so that when I met up with the boys in the lobby, they wouldn't run away in the opposite direction screaming.

I dropped my towel and pulled on my underwear quickly before opening my suitcase and going through the clothes I still hadn't actually bothered to unpack. I'd been in skinny jeans all damn day, so those were an immediate 'no.' Instead, I settled on a punky-looking tartan skirt and a long-sleeved crop with a Ouija board print. It wasn't the style I usually had, but hey, clearly I'd packed them for a reason.

I was just finishing up brushing out my hair when my phone pinged with a text. I picked it up from its position next to me on the table, sliding my finger across the screen.

 _ **-One New Message-  
Dean Ambrose**_

 **Hurry up, Jordan. We've been down here 10 minutes, where the fuck are you?**

I let out a low sigh; apparently his levels of patience hadn't changed over the years either. _What, no sign off kiss? ;) Calm the fuck down, asswipe, I'm pretty sure I said we'd meet at 10.45. It's 10.32. Ain't my fault you're always early. Pun intended, too :P_

 **You really are a class A bitch.**

 _I'm sure this is a conversation we've had before. Yes, I'm a bitch and you're incapable of letting a woman cum first. Must we go over it again?_

 **Just hurry the fuck up.**

I giggled to myself as I placed my phone back down, tugging my brush through my hair and starting to apply my makeup, painting my lips red. Truth be told, I'd actually kind of missed the easy banter between Dean and I. Sure, we had one hell of a fucked up past together, but I was genuinely willing to look past that to be friends with him. We'd known each other for five years, it made sense to at least try. As for the other two...

I liked Seth. I actually liked Seth a lot, enough to the point that I actually felt bad about all the earlier opinions I'd had of him. And I never felt bad, like ever. From the moment we'd first spoken today, I'd just felt comfortable with him. It was a weird sensation, I had to admit. Maybe I actually had a potential friend on the horizon.

I kinda just wanted to punch Roman in the face. I'd be lying if I said I'd never had someone take such an immediate dislike to me, but for some reason this time it really pissed me off. Maybe it was because I knew we were going to be spending a lot of time together and this could cause tension within the faction already. It was his fault. I blamed him.

My phone buzzed again, lighting up beside me.

 _ **-One New Message-  
Dean Ambrose**_

 **JORDAN. WHERE ARE YOU. IT'S 10.45. WE'RE ABOUT TO LEAVE. HURRY THE FUCK UP.**

 _Jesus Christ, are you being serious?! I'm on my way down, cool your jets._

Throwing my phone into my apple purse and fastening a black choker around my neck, I zipped myself into a pair of heeled ankle boots and grabbed my wallet and keycard, also shoving them in my purse. I seized my Harley Quinn-print snapback from my bed and shoved that on my head as I headed out the door. I was ready, anyway. I wasn't just leaving because Dean told me to.

"Oh my God, you fucking hipster," I exclaimed as I stepped out the elevator, my eyes instantly clocking on Seth's skinny jeans and obscure band t-shirt.

"What are you talking about?" Seth asked with a frown, looking down at himself. "I didn't think I looked that bad."

"Dude. Your jeans are tighter than almost every pair I own," I said. "Ergo, hipster. Don't fight it, just embrace it."

"So what's the look you're trying out?" Dean asked innocently. "Punk prostitute?"

"I'd say 'alternative working girl' actually," I retorted without batting an eyelid. "Though you ain't looking too bad yourself, Deano. Nice to know you actually understand the concept of clean clothes. And you scrub up nicely too, Reigns."

"You really do look like a punk prostitute," was the reply I got. I was actually going to kill this guy.

"So we going or what?" I said after quirking my brow at him but somehow refraining from saying anything. "I'd like to back here before five AM, if at all possible."

"What happened to you, Sav?" Dean sighed with a shake of his head, pushing the front door of the hotel open. "You used to be fun."

"You know what happened to me, Dean," I said waspishly, tugging down the waistband of my skirt so the tiniest hint of my scar appeared. That shut him up pretty quickly as I pushed my way past him into the cool night air.

"The fuck was that all about?" Roman muttered behind me.

"PMS," Dean mumbled.

* * *

"I was so fucking _close_!" I slurred three hours later, brandishing my eighth bottle of beer in the air. "I had that asshole right where I fucking wanted him, all it would have taken was my finisher to have him out for the three. But no. This fucking dickhead right here-" I stuck my middle finger up at Dean. "-comes flying into the ring out of nowhere and hits him with a chair. That was it. My chance at a world title gone because of a fucking DQ, because Deano couldn't stand the idea of me being the one to beat him."

Well. I'd tried to remain sober. I'd honestly tried. However. My intended two glasses of white wine turned into a bottle. The bottle turned into Sourz shots. The Sourz turned into tequila, and...well, you get the idea. The more rational side of my brain had turned me over to beer about an hour ago, but that wasn't really helping either.

"I can take my losses quite well," I continued, draining what was left of my bottle. "I can. I mean, it ain't like they happen very often, so it's like a novelty to me. But that one...I was fucking robbed. Though I still think I took it pretty well, all things considered."

"You broke my finger," Dean reminded me, taking a drink from his own bottle.

"I did?" I frowned. Then I let out a simultaneous hiccup and giggle. "Oh yeah, I did. That was your fault though."

"How was you breaking my finger _my_ fault?"

"Because you fucking got me disqualified!" I said this so quickly that the words jumbled together in my inebriated state to sound more like, "Causeyafuckingotmedisqual-fied!"

"You are so wasted," Roman commented, raising an eyebrow.

"Shut up, Girl Hair, I am not," I bit back, raising my hand at the bartender to signal for another bottle. "I'm just a liddle-widdle bit tipsy."

"How many fingers am I holding up?" asked Seth.

I squinted at him. "...four?"

"Sav, I'm not even holding up my hand yet."

"That was my next guess."

"So you're the stupid kind of drunk?" Roman questioned rhetorically. My response was to take a large sip from the bottle just handed to me and projectile-spit it all down the front of his black shirt. "What the fuck?!" he roared, stumbling back out of his chair as I laughed at him.

"Oopsy!" I giggled. "My bad! I was aiming for your face. Guess you gotta take your shirt off now, huh?"

"Sav! Jesus!" Seth seemed a little shocked at my behaviour, whereas Dean just looked vaguely amused.

"What?" I said defensively. "He's the only one who hasn't been caught with his shirt off today, so I say it's only fair."

"Hey, she's got a point, Roman," Dean said with a smirk. "Take it off, bro."

"Not helping, Dean!" Roman snapped, wiping at his shirt with a napkin. "Fucking control your girlfriend, dude!"

"Not his girlfriend!" I exclaimed at the same time Dean yelled, "She's not my girlfriend!"

"But you always wished I was," I added teasingly, sticking my tongue out at him.

"Okay, I think we better get you back to the hotel," Seth said. "I'm cutting you off."

"No! No! Don't! I'm sorry, Seth!" I cried, cradling my bottle to my chest like it was my firstborn child. "I'll be good, I promise!"

"No, I really think-" he began, reaching for my drink, when I suddenly tuned in on the new song the bar was playing.

 _If you ain't dirty, you ain't here to party!  
Ladies, move.  
Gentlemen, move.  
Somebody ring the alarm, a fire on the roof._

"Oh my God, this is my jam!" I shrieked, pushing myself to a standing position and starting to clap along in time to Christina Aguilera's _Dirrty_. This had been one of my favourite songs ever since it came out. Me and a few of my 'friends' at one of my high schools had learned the entire music video routine by heart and performed it during our sophomore year talent show. Ironic, now I think about it, considering 80% of the video takes place in a ring. The faces of the teachers as five fifteen-year-old girls walked onstage wearing nothing but booty shorts, bikini tops and leather jackets were priceless. Guess who got suspended for two weeks for that stunt.

"Let's fucking do this!" I yelled as the song kicked into the lyrics, breaking out into dance. See? I could still remember the moves; clearly I wasn't _that_ drunk.

"This should be interesting," said Dean, kicking his legs up on the table.

 _Ooh, I'm overdue,  
Gimme some room, I'm comin' through.  
Paid my dues, in the mood,  
Me and my girls gonna shake the room._

"Does she always get like this?" asked Seth.

"No, actually, this is a new one," replied Dean. "Never seen her so calm when she's wasted."

"Hey! Don't talk about me like I'm not here!" I slurred, but I continued looking like I belonged in a music video anyway. "Someone come dance with me!" I added as I shook my hips. "What about you, Reigns? I bet you've got some moves you could show me." I threw a wink in his direction.

"I think I'm okay here, thanks Savannah," he said, rolling his eyes.

"Booooring! Ever heard of fun before?" I shouted back over the music, dropping to the floor in a slut-drop and opening my legs as wide as I could, forgetting my skirt-and-thong situation down below. I effectively gave everyone in a twenty-foot radius a shot of my red lace-covered crotch, and I didn't even care.

 _It's explosive, speakers are thumpin',  
Still jumpin', six in the mornin'.  
Table dancin', glasses are crashin',  
No question, time for some action!_

"We need to stop her now," Seth said urgently. "If someone sees her who knows who she is, they could say something, take pictures of her and send them to a tabloid, anything! She'll fuck up her career before she even gets anywhere!"

"You want to be the one to interrupt her?" Dean raised his eyebrow then gestured in my direction. "Feel free to cut in, I'm sure she'll appreciate it."

"I'm still fucking listening, you assholes!" I yelled, starting to get annoyed. "Dean, you never used to be this boring!"

"And you never used to be able to dance, so I guess we're both learning new things about each other," he returned with a snicker.

 _Gonna get rowdy, gonna get a little unruly.  
Get it fired up in a hurry,  
Wanna get dirty,  
It's about time that I came to start the party._

"Fuck you, I've always been a fucking amazing dancer and you know it!" I panted, starting to lose my breath and my focus. So I suddenly took a run forward, leaping up and landing on our table almost perfectly, though I did wobble a little in my heels. Unsurprisingly, all three men immediately backed away. "No one has moves like me!"

 _Sweat drippin' over my body.  
Dancin', gettin' just a little, naughty,  
Wanna get dirty-_

"It's about time for my arrival!" I shouted, going to thrust my leg up to perform a high-kick when I completely lost my balance. It almost felt like it was happening in slow motion. As I brought my right leg up, my left foot somehow slipped into a puddle of cranberry and vodka I'd spilled earlier and never bothered to mop up. Being in a, um, slightly unstable state, I toppled complete ass over heels. My body twisted in midair, and I landed with a thud, cracking my head against the exposed floorboards, my hat falling off.

"Oh shit!" Dean cursed as my eyesight started to star over. I closed my eyes heavily to clear my vision, but when I opened them, the stars were still there. Also, I now had all three members of The Shield staring down at me, and they looked genuinely concerned.

"One o' ya was s'posed t' catch meh," I mumbled drunkenly, pointing up accusingly between the three of them before I completely blacked out.

* * *

My head was heavy, and there was a thudding pain in the back of my skull. I didn't even want to open my eyes, I felt so out of it. What had happened? The last thing I remembered was ordering another rum and Coke just after midnight. That was when I heard a kind of familiar, vaguely irritating high-pitched male voice start talking.

"Should we call her a doctor or something? She hit her head pretty hard."

"She didn't bleed, she's fine."

"She knocked herself out, Dean!"

"But she's not bleeding. No blood, no foul."

"That's fucked up."

"She brought it on herself. She's the one who said she could handle her drink."

"See? Roman knows what's up."

"Roman doesn't like her."

"Oh my God, I never said that."

"You don't need to, dude, you're not exactly hiding it."

"Can we just get her back to her room? It's like three in the morning. Ambrose, did you find her keycard?"

"Yup. Got it out of her purse, hidden amongst the lipsticks, cigarettes and tampons. Room Two-oh-seven."

"A little too much information there, Dean."

"I've never seen one woman drink so much. She was completely out of control."

"Are you fucking joking? This was tame for her. You should be grateful she didn't threaten to bottle a bouncer."

"She's done that?!"

"On more than one occasion."

I stirred, my eyes fluttering open. My body was completely floppy, my head dangling down with my hair flying everywhere. I was facing an ugly 80s-era carpet that was moving with every step the person who was carrying me over their shoulder took. The person who was carrying...OH MY GOD.

"Help! HELP! I'm being kidnapped! SOMEONE HELP ME!" I cried, screwing my hands into fists and pummeling at the jean-clad ass of my captor.

"Woah, Sav, easy! It's just me, chill out!" the person groaned as I whacked them, and I stopped struggling when his voice clicked into my addled brain.

"Dean? Where am I?" I murmured, allowing my body to go slack again as he carried me.

"The hotel, darlin'. It's time to get you to bed."

I let out a gasp, raising my head slightly to try to look at him. I failed, because it turned out I couldn't pull a Regan MacNeil and twist my head 180 degrees. "Not that kinda girl anymore, Ambrose, I told you. You had your ride. In fact, I'm pretty sure you had about ten rides."

"So you're still drunk. Okay. Please don't puke down my jacket."

"I've only ever done that twice," I muttered, turning to look back down and catching sight of the other two guys with us. Seth was smiling in a highly amused fashion with my Harley snapback placed backwards over his two-toned hair, and Roman just looked impassive, as usual. "Oh, hey boys. Didn't see you there."

"How's your head?" Seth asked.

"Absolutely fine," I said defensively, lowering my head as the room began to spin, totally contradicting myself. "Told ya I can handle my alcohol."

"Sure, that's why you managed to knock yourself unconscious," muttered Roman, causing me to scowl at the floor. I would have scowled at him, but that required more effort than I was willing to put in. "Yo, Seth, this is us," he suddenly said, and both sets of their footsteps ceased.

"Let me get Drinking Beauty up to her room so she doesn't fall down the stairs and kill herself," Dean told them. "Meet in the gym at eight as usual?"

"Sure thing, man," said Seth.

"I wanna go to the gym!" I said happily. "Can I come?! Pleaaase?!"

"Sure you can, Savvy," Dean said patronizingly, patting the small of my back.

"Okay, goodnight then," Roman said loudly, and this was followed by a door slamming shut.

"Moody asshole," I said, re-closing my eyes. I just wanted to sleep now, was that too much to ask.

"These are gonna be some long months ahead, aren't they?" Seth sighed, placing my hat on my own head. "Okay, 'night guys." A second door closed.

"Can I take a nap now too?" I yawned as the carpet started moving again.

"That's the plan, because I don't think you'll be putting on too much of a show tomorrow if you've got the hangover from hell."

"Done it before," I said, already feeling like I was about to drop off on his shoulder.

"This ain't 2009, sweetheart," he reminded me. "You aren't gonna be doing too good against- who is it you're going against? AJ? - if you've got a headache and spend the morning puking your guts out."

"No faith! You used to encourage me to go out with a pounding head. Told you that you got boring," I said as we started to walk up a flight of stairs. "Stop jolting me so much! I really will be sick!"

Dean didn't say anything after that, but I did hear him let out a small sigh, like he was disappointed in me or something. Somehow, once we reached my room, he managed to get my keycard from his pocket, unlock the door and open it, all without dropping me. Once in the room, he lowered me to an unsteady standing position by the bed, pulling back the covers and shoving them to the side.

"Er...you can't go to sleep in that," he said awkwardly, gesturing at my skirt and top.

"I don't wanna get changed in front of you again," I said shyly. "We're not like that anymore." I bent down to take of my shoes...only to promptly fall flat on my face.

"Well I'm sorry Sav, but clearly you're incapable of doing it yourself," he said firmly, grabbing my arm and dragging me back to my feet. "Chances are, you're not even gonna remember this in the morning."

"I don't want-" I began to say again, but Dean just grabbed hold of the hem of my skirt and pulled it down, staring at my red lace thong for a few seconds before snapping out of it. "Fucking pervert."

"Just like old times, huh?" he teased, now pulling my crop up over my head, leaving me now exposed in the non-matching black bra I'd put on after my shower. My hands automatically flew to my scar to cover it up, totally forgetting that Dean already knew.

"Hey. I know all about that shit, remember?" Dean said, but that's _all_ he said, promptly handing me the Victoria's Secret nightgown I'd left in bed this morning. I took it silently and tugged it over my head, my vision beginning to get a little wobbly again.

"Okay, here we go," he grunted, lifting me back up and quite literally dumping me on the bed. He tried to let me go completely, but I kept my arms tightly around his neck, making him look at me. "Sav, what are you doing?"

"I've just...I've really missed you, Dean," I said quietly, my eyes tearing up in my emotional drunken state. "I didn't realize that I did until today."

Dean chuckled softly, wiping away my tears. "I've missed you too, Rosie. Just don't tell anyone I said so." He squeezed my shoulder comfortingly before he disappeared out the door, making sure it shut behind him. I snuggled down under the covers, my eyes soon fluttering shut. It didn't take very long for me to fall into a comatose yet fitful sleep, punctuated by a dream I could only wish had stayed in the deep recesses of my brain.

* * *

 **A/N- And thus, that is chapter four. Hope you all liked it! Review, follow, favourite, let me know what you thought! Xx Gee xX**

 **PS- To all my Seth Rollins fans out there, y'all have gotta hit up Starfire Tamaran! She's just published a Seth/OC fic called** _ **Over The Love**_ **. I promise you that it is absolutely awesome, you totally should check it out! XD**

 _ **Songs for Chapter Four:  
Christina Aguilera - Dirrty**_


	5. Beautiful Nightmare

**A/N- Sooo...trying out my first real M scene in this chapter. I hope it's gone well because otherwise I'll be making a bit of a tit of myself, won't I? Gah. Paranoid. Huge thanks to Roxie, Anna and Lynn021 for reviewing!**

* * *

 **Chapter Five- Beautiful Nightmare**

* * *

 _ **~ 2008 ~**_

* * *

My fingertips pressed against the cold concrete floor as I furiously pumped my body up and down. _Twenty-eight...twenty-nine...thirty_. Conveniently now the number of seconds I had until I walked out to the ring for my professional ring debut. I jumped to my feet and pounded my red athletic taped fists together twice. Today was the day I proved my worth in this business. I'd show all those other promotions that turned me down, all those teachers who said I'd never amount to anything except a juvenile delinquent, all those girls who called me a no-hope slut, and I'd show my dad just why I never fucking needed him in the first place.

Rocking up and down on the soles of my feet a few times, I caught sight of myself in a nearby mirror. Well, it couldn't be said I wouldn't leave an impression on the CZW fans even if this ended up being my only match here. My ginger hair was haphazard and scruffy, my lips red and eyes clear of any makeup except a small line of eyeliner. My black tank top read _Daddy Issues_ in white lettering and my tiny little black shorts had _Fuck Me Like You Hate Me_ along the back. They were so short that wearing underwear was out of the question.

They were also short enough to expose the most recent addition to my ever-growing tattoo collection: a lacy garter and bow I had wrapped around the top of my left thigh. I also had three diamonds on the base of my spine that had red and black smears leaking from them (a tribute to the greatest DC villainess of all time: Harley Quinn) and script along my left ribs (my very first tattoo, illegally inked at age sixteen). I was also thinking about getting a vine of roses that started on my right shoulder and would trail down my side and curl to my stomach as a dedication to my deceased mother, but...that was a decision for later life.

One taped wrist had a black band around it that had _BITCH_ written on it in red, and the other wrist had _SLUT_ on. Around my throat was a plastic red and black choker designed to look like stitches. I was just bending down to retie one of my black Doc Martens boots when my entrance music began to play the other side of the curtain.

 _All the pieces of the puzzle seem to fall into place,  
But the only thought that I can think is pissing in that fucking face!  
That taste you left in my mouth was rotten,  
And you think that all the shit you did to me could be forgotten?  
WELL FUCK YOU!_

I cracked my head to the side and shoved the curtain out of my way, storming my way past the metal beams and down to the ring as Slipknot's _Black Heart_ screamed out around me. The people behind the metal barricades were yelling and catcalling- of course they didn't want to see some random chick who had never set foot in a professional ring before. I let out a loud bark of laughter, doing a cartwheel along the floor by the apron.

"And finally, introducing his tag team partner, making her CZW debut, from Dallas, Texas; _Savannah Rose_!"

I leaped up onto the apron and stood with my arms hooked around the top rope, leaning back for a few seconds to push my chest out before reaching down and pulling off my tank to reveal the red and black lace bralet with a rose between the boobs (Savannah _Rose_ , get it?) underneath, tossing it to the floor.

"You're going down, Rose!" some fucking idiot in the crowd called out.

"Go down on this, bitch!" I yelled back, grabbing at my crotch and thrusting once in the direction the shout came from. I turned around and provocatively bent over the ropes to get into the ring, shaking my ass a few times before I swung my other leg over the rope- a little homage to TNA's Velvet Sky and Angelina Love. Here I was, motherfuckers, and I wasn't going anywhere. Turning my back on the audience and throwing my middle fingers in the air, I sauntered my way over to my corner of the ring, and to my tag partner.

Jon Moxley.

He was famous - or rather, infamous - on the independent circuit. Good-looking, talented and charismatic, everyone knew who he was. Having him as my partner in my debut match was going to do my career in this company the world of good. After all, if I couldn't use him to instantly propel myself to the top then who could I use? Every other guy in CZW just seemed so...average compared to Jon.

"Hello there, pretty lady," he drawled as I leaned backed against the turnbuckles, his eyes drinking in every inch of my body, every little bit of flesh I proudly had on display aside from one...minor affliction on my abdomen, which was coated in about five layers of foundation.

"Mox," I said coolly. This was only the second time we'd met, the first being yesterday when we'd run into each other backstage. I'd been in a meeting with the owner, John Zandig, to go over the contract I would potentially be signing and to be told about my very first match. That was when Jon came busting through the door, demanding to talk to Zandig "right fucking now." Naturally, the second I laid eyes on him I was attracted to him, and seeing the way he'd ran his gaze over me, I had no doubt he'd felt the same.

I didn't date. That was my golden rule in life. I had never had an actual boyfriend. Anyone I cared about eventually fucked me over and left me - my cunt of a father, Thomas, for instance - and I would _never_ give another man that power over me. Sure, I'd had plenty of fuck buddies and friends with benefits, because there was no emotional attachment involved and I could walk away with zero remorse when I got bored of them.

However. As I now stood the other side of the ropes, taking in the sight of Jon in his tight black trunks with EXPLICIT MOX VIOLENCE on the back, I wondered if I'd be willing to make an exception this time. Being the girlfriend of the guy who was basically the face of the company would certainly be one way to make a name for myself around here.

NO. I shook my head, knocking those thoughts firmly out of my mind. Men were rats, and with his reputation, Jon Moxley was the biggest rat of them all. I wasn't here to find a boyfriend, I was here to fucking wrestle.

The bell rang, jolting me out of my thoughts, and Jon and the other guy in the match flew at each other. The second Jon's forearm connected with his opponent's face, I knew this was gonna be fucking violent. I heard the impact from over here. The other chick already looked panicked, and so she should have; I had absolutely no intention of walking away from this match as the losing team.

For about five minutes, the two men battled it out, bringing other toys into the fray almost instantly. A fork, some thumbtacks and the splintered remains of a kendo stick already laid littered around the ring, along with plenty of blood splatters. The dude who was built like a brick shithouse - Brain Damage - had blood pouring out of his forehead where Jon had stabbed him with the fork and Jon was bleeding from the chest from a DDT into the thumbtacks.

"Come on, come on, come on!" I screamed, leaning as far into the ring as I could with my arm outstretched. "Tag me in!"

Jon looked between me and the incapacitated Damage for a millisecond, then shrugged, did a forward roll to our corner and said, "Let's see what you got, kid. Don't fuck this up," as he slapped my hand.

"Watch and learn, Moxxy," I sneered, grabbing hold of the top rope and vaulting myself over, landing firmly on my booted feet. I circled around the hulking figure of Damage, who was slowly making his way to his feet, looking vaguely disorientated due to Jon snapping the kendo stick over his head.

"What's the matter, big guy?" I taunted as he glared at me, clearly unsure how to make his move. "Don't want to hit a poor, defenseless girl?" I suddenly leaped forward, jamming the sole of my foot into the centre of his chest and twisting my other leg up to catch him in the back of the head with an enzuigiri. He stumbled, but due to his size and the fact I barely weighed a hundred and ten pounds, he didn't go down.

However, I did put enough force into the kick that I managed to knock him back into his own corner, and he tagged his partner into the match. The brunette swung her legs over the ropes and took three steps forward, coming to a stop in front of me. We had a stare-down for a few moments, neither of us willing to be the one to break first.

"Jesus fucking Christ, either make out or wrestle already! Fuck!" Jon shouted out impatiently.

It was enough to knock me into action. I seized hold of the girl by her wrist and jerked her forward, slamming her with a clothesline. She hit the mat hard, so I quickly ran towards the ropes, rebounding off them and hitting her in the chest with a low dropkick just as she started to sit up. Seeing an opportunity to pull off a more daring move, I took advantage of the fact she was incapacitated for the moment and began to climb to the top turnbuckle, squatting back on my haunches and waiting for her to unsteadily climb to her feet.

"Come on, you cocksucker!" I screamed at her. "Let's see what you're made of!"

"Get fucked, you desperate bitch!" she yelled back, scrambling to her feet and making to charge at me, probably to knock me off the turnbuckle.

"Big mistake, honey," I giggled, and I launched myself at her and hooked my legs around her neck, spinning around her in a hurricanrana. The crowd was starting to get involved now, shouting out and booing me, the new girl. The adrenaline pumping through me right now was insane. Once I'd taken a split second to regain the breath I'd lost hitting the mat, I sat bolt upright and grinned psychotically at the crowd before rolling out of the ring, an idea popping into my head.

I dropped to my knees and yanked the apron up, rummaging around until I found exactly what I was looking for. The crowd went absolutely insane when I emerged, clutching the new toy I was about to bring into play; a folding steel chair. This was the very reason I was trying out for Combat Zone Wrestling; every match was No Holds Barred, Extreme Rules, Tables, Ladders and Chairs, whatever, because anything and everything went.

I slid both myself and the chair into the ring, taking my sweet time in opening and positioning the chair where I wanted it as Little Miss Brunette was still borderline out cold. Humming, I skipped around her a few times before seizing her by the hair and yanking her to her feet. "Up you get, darling."

I wrapped my arm around her neck and twisted both our bodies, forcing us downwards in a snap swinging neckbreaker so the back of her head connected with the chair, which collapsed on impact. The seat caved in and the legs completely snapped off as she screamed out in agony. Leaping to my feet, I quickly darted into my corner and slapped Jon's hand to tag out as I was starting to feel a little out of breath.

"Not bad, Rosie," he muttered as we swapped positions on the apron. "Not bad at all."

"I don't need your approval, Jon," I retorted, sitting down on the edge of the ring to catch myself. To say the girl look shit scared the second she laid eyes on Jon stepping into the ring with her would be an understatement. I've never seen a chick move so quickly in my life to tag Damage back in.

For another ten or fifteen minutes, the match was completely one-sided. Jon and I weren't just dominating, we were _destroying_. We were making frequent tags in and out and utterly slaughtered which ever person was in the ring at the time, whether it was the dude or the girl. As Jon tagged me back in for about the sixth time, I'd never felt more alive. This...this is what I was born to do.

Impatiently wiping blood from a cut on my cheek caused by a suicide dive gone wrong - I'd ended slamming both Damage's face and my own face into the metal barricade - I jumped up and spun round to smack the bitch in the face with a spinning heel kick. I then grabbed her by the throat and pulled her halfway up, taking one of the leftover thumbtacks still in the ring and digging it into her face, dragging it down the left side.

"Hush little baby, don't say a word," I sang sweetly as she screamed, turning my assault on the other side, my fingers becoming sticky with her blood. "Momma's gonna buy you a mockingbird. And if that mockingbird don't sing, Momma's gonna use your blood to paint this ring..."

"You psycho!" she howled, throwing me off her and scrambling out of my way. I bided my time, waiting for her to clamber to my feet before I threw myself at her, spearing her so hard I was half-sure I felt one of her ribs snapped. The second she was down, I knew it was time to pull out what I planned on making my signature submission move, a lotus lock.

Forcing her into a sitting position, I pulled her arms back as far as they would go and brought my legs up, crossing them around the back of her neck as tightly as I could get them. Just to add my own little spin on the move, I arched my lower back up off the mat but left my shoulders down in a sort of semi-bridge, just to really lock it in. Crying out all sorts of obscenities, she thrashed around in my grip as she tried to break out, wiggling and squirming for all she was worth.

"Tap, bitch, tap!" I screamed before I looked at the ref. "Ask her the fucking question!"

"What do you say, Candy?" the ref quickly asked her. Oh. So _that_ was her name.

"Hell - fucking - no!" she grunted, and the next thing I knew she was bridging herself, suddenly able to practically bend herself in half to swing her legs around to kick me in the face. I immediately let go of her, clutching at my nose and with her new-found freedom, she tried to roll me up for a pin. Panicking, I quickly shoved her off me and rolled over to my front, placing my hands back over my nose for a few moments before pulling them back to inspect for damage; no blood. Oh thank fuck, she hadn't broken it.

With a groan, I pushed myself up on all fours and stood up, spitting out some of the blood from my cheek that had dribbled into my mouth. I turned around, ready to attack, only to be struck so hard in the forehead with a broken chair leg that I fell right back down again.

"Mother _fucker_!" I hissed, feeling where the jagged metal had sliced a gash clean across the top of my head where my hairline met my forehead. My palm came away scarlet. A hand clutched at the top of my head, and she tried pulling me to my feet by my hair.

I wanted to stay on the mat, so I allowed my body to become dead weight.

Candy didn't let that stop her. With a huge twist of her hand, she hauled me to my feet, but all of a sudden, a tearing noise ran throughout the room, so loud I was sure the audience must have heard it, as the handful of hair she had hold of was completely severed away from my scalp.

The scream that clawed its way from my throat as I collapsed sounded almost inhuman. The pain was unbearable, tears springing to my eyes. My skull felt like it was on fire, radiating down my body. My hands flew to my head, probing for the area of infliction. I soon came into contact with a bald patch, which was sticky with yet more blood. Oh my God, this wasn't fucking happening.

"Tag me in!" Jon screamed at me. "Rose, you stupid bitch, get your ass over here and _make - a - tag_!" I didn't reply, I didn't even move much; I was just rolling around in the centre of the ring, agonized sobs wracking my body. Candy let out a loud laugh, skipping around me the same way I had done with her.

This was her opening, and she was gonna take it. Ramming her foot into my stomach to completely wind me, Candy dropped her body on top of mine, hooking my leg and pinning my shoulders down as I tried not to pass out. The ref knelt down beside us, slamming his hand on the canvas.

"One! Two! Three!" _Ding, ding, ding._ "The winners of this match: the team of Brain Damage and Candy!" Oh shit.

"ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?!" Jon's incensed roar rang out, and I heard his thundering footsteps across the ring. I tried to sit up, blinking the blood combined from my missing hair and forehead cut out of my eyes, and looked up in time to see Jon standing over me, his own face a crimson mask.

His fingers wrapped around my upper arm and he hauled me to my feet, pulling me against him. "HOW DID YOU FUCK THAT UP?! YOU FUCKING HAD HER! WHY DID YOU HAVE TO GO FOR THAT FUCKING STUPID SUBMISSION, YOU FUCKING MORON?!"

"STOP FUCKING SHOUTING AT ME, YOU DICKHEAD!" I yelled at him, slamming my hand against his bare chest in irritation and leaving a bright red mark.

"You bitch," he snarled, and his face contorted in even more anger, if that was possible. He removed his hand from my arm, only to grab hold of me by the hair (what was these idiots' obsession with my hair?!) and dragged me out of the ring and all the way back to the - empty - girls' locker room.

Pushing me bodily into the room, he slammed the door behind us and locked it before turning his icy blue eyes to me. "What the _fuck_ was that out there, Rose? Huh?! You blow out this shitty little amateur promo about how 'unstoppable' you are and how you're gonna put every other fucking idiot in this company to shame, and you fuck up your first match! This is the exact fucking reason I don't fucking work with rookies!"

"Shut the fuck up, Jon! Just shut up!" I screeched, so loudly I made my headache start to thump. "I know that I fucked up, I don't need you fucking screaming at me about it!"

"You wanna be something in this company, Rosie-Posie? Do ya?" he mocked, shoving my head so I stumbled back a couple of feet. "Because you better start getting used to pain, darlin', or you ain't gonna make it! Everyone goes on and on about how fucking talented you are, but all I'm seeing in front of me right now is nothing but a cheap, talentless _ho_!"

"You son of a bitch!" I shrieked, bringing my hand up and slapping Jon around the face so hard that not only did his head do an almost 90 degree turn to the side, but I'm pretty sure I bruised the palm of my hand.

He turned back, glaring at me so heavily his eyes were almost flashing, and he growled out, "Oh, you shouldn't have fucking done that, sweetheart." The next think I knew, my back connected harshly with one of the lockers as Jon pressed his arm across my throat and pushed me backwards, pinning me there. His hand fisted in the hair at the nape of my neck and he yanked my head back so hard it slammed into the metal. But hey, what was more pain?

He stood at a towering 6'4, making him a full ten inches taller than I was. His eyes bored into mine as he scowled, clearly trying to intimidate me, the blood from his face dripping onto my cheeks. I should have been repulsed, but I wasn't. In fact, I found it pretty fucking hot.

I let out a low, dark chuckle. "You don't fucking scare me, Moxley."

"Learn to shut your fucking mouth, Rose, before I fucking shut it for you," he hissed, bringing his face so close to mine that our noses were touching. I could smell him, and he smelt like blood, sweat and a musky aftershave.

"Why don't you make me?" I breathed out, and the air around us instantly filled with tension like a thick pollution, caging us together. No words were said. Jon released my hair and cupped that hand under my chin, violently bringing my lips to his. His other hand travelled down my left side, coming to a rest on the tattoo on my thigh where he dug his fingers into my flesh, bringing my leg up to hook it around his waist. I knotted my hands in his unruly curls, allowing him to slide his tongue into my mouth.

"I'm really starting to hate you, you complete fucking prick," I muttered against his lips, and he pulled away with a laugh deep in his throat.

"Feeling's mutual, baby, but I'm the complete fucking prick that you just kissed without hesitation," he retorted.

"Get fucked, Moxley."

"Oh Rosie, I'm about to," he smirked, leaning forward and licking down the right side of my face, slowly lapping at the semi-dried blood before beginning a torturous assault on my neck, his tongue flicking at my pulse point and bringing a groan from my mouth.

"Oh God...Jon..."

"I don't appreciate people walking into my company and acting that they own the place," he murmured in my ear, grazing my lobe with his teeth. "Especially a little girl who gives up the second it starts to hurt too much."

"I ain't here to just own it, honey. I'm here to run this town," I shot back, and I let out a gasp when Jon bit down on the crook of my neck - hard enough that I had no doubt he had broken the skin - and sucked, branding me with a mark that would clearly read 'Jon Moxley Was Here.' In retaliation, I danced my nails down his side, just hard enough to leave little pink lines, trailing over his stomach then even further downward, unhooking my leg from around his waist and cupping him through his trunks. He was already semi-hard.

A hiss escaped Jon's mouth, and he removed his mouth from my neck to batter my lips with a bruising kiss. Our tongues entwined, battling for dominance, a battle he ultimately won. "So that's how you wanna play it, huh?"

"I don't play fair, Moxxy," I purred, squeezing him and earning myself a moan that dampened my shorts.

"Well, Rosie, I think two can play at this game, don't you?" he smirked, sliding his hand up my thigh to stroke at the outside of my shorts, just over my sex. The hot coil that had been gradually forming in my stomach suddenly grew a lot tighter and I let out a whiny mewling sound.

"You like that, don't you?" he breathed in my ear, slipping a finger into the shorts and inside me. "No panties, Rosie? You bad girl."

"You love it." I nipped at the base of his throat with my teeth, trying not to show him how good he was making me feel. That illusion quickly fell out the window when he began to ease his finger in and out of me, agonizingly slow. I tried grinding my hips against him to encourage him to move faster, but if anything he just went slower.

"All in good time, Rosie," he murmured, lowering his head and peppering kisses across my shoulder and down to my cleavage. He added a second finger. "So wet for me."

"That is not for you, baby boy, don't flatter yourself," I warned him, swallowing a moan. "Just to be c-clear..." my voice faltered as he started to move his fingers that little bit faster. "Oh Jon...er, to b-be clear, this is a one t-time thing. N-no strings. I don't d-date."

"Well that's good, doll-face, because you're not exactly my type," he retorted, withdrawing his fingers completely and placing them in his mouth. "Though I could get used to this," he added, capturing my lips again, sliding his tongue in so I could taste myself. My knees practically buckled at how hot this was, and I grabbed Jon by the hair and pulled him back from me to look him dead in the eye.

"Fuck me now, Moxley, or I'll finish the job myself," I snapped.

Jon smirked, trailing his finger down my ribs and hooking it in the waistband of my shorts. "You forgot to say 'please,' darlin'," he drawled.

I looked up at him through my eyelashes and bit my lip. "Please fuck me, Jon?" I said huskily.

"That wasn't so hard, was it?" he growled. "Now, why don't we make that little statement on your ass come true?" His hand fisted at the waistband of my shorts and he pulled, the material giving way under his brute strength.

"You fucking idiot, that was my only pair!" I yelped.

"Get over it," he said with a roll of his eyes, pulling down his own trunks and grabbing my hips, hoisting me up the locker and positioning himself at my entrance.

"Get on with it then!" I demanded.

"So impatient, princess," he chastised, but with a single jerk of his hips, he thrust inside me and caused me to yell out. He didn't even bother giving me time to adjust to his size, continuing his thrusts erratically as the two of us moaned and groaned. We weren't even attempting to be quiet.

"Oh fuck," I whimpered, burying my face in the crook of Jon's neck and digging my nails into the muscle of his back, deep enough that I was sure I had left marks.

"Jesus, Rose!" he grunted, starting to pick up the pace. My legs clamped around his waist and I clawed at his back, leaving angry red trails behind. With every snap of his hips banging into mine, my back slammed into the locker behind me, metallic crashes ringing throughout the girls' locker room.

"I'm close, Jon!" I gasped, feeling that coil in my stomach threatening to spring loose.

"Fuck, so am I," he groaned. "Shit, Rosie, you're so tight." That was enough to tip me over the edge. The coil snapped and I came apart in Jon's arms, crying out his name as I came, my walls clenching around him.

"JON!"

"ROSIE!" he shouted as he reached his own climax, coming inside me. Thank fuck for morning after pills. We held onto each other as we came down from our separate highs, our foreheads pressed together as we tried to regain the ability to use our lungs. The second Jon caught his breath, he pulled out of me and let go of his grip on my waist, effectively dropping me so he could pull his trunks back up. Charming. At least I was able to land on my feet.

"Welcome to CZW, darlin'," he said with a smirk, slapping me on my bare ass and throwing a wink in my direction before he unlocked the door and sauntered out of the room. The second the door closed behind him, I collapsed back against the lockers, brushing my hair out of my face. _Jesus fucking Christ..._

I turned around and turned the dial of one of the lockers - my locker - with the combination, opening it and pulling out the yoga pants I'd been wearing when I arrived, gripping the stretchy purple material in my hands. What the hell had I just gotten myself into by fucking that complete tool? One thing was for damn sure, though.

It looked like my time in Philadelphia was gonna get a whole lot more interesting now I had Jon Moxley in my life.

* * *

 _ **~ 2013 ~**_

* * *

I didn't know if the reason I was kneeling with my head down the toilet at eight AM was due to the highly unneeded flashback dream I'd been forced to endure over the course of my alcohol-induced coma or the stinking hangover I had. My stomach was in knots, my head pounded, my skin was blotchy and the inside of my mouth felt dry as a desert. Tequila was an evil, evil substance that I never wanted to touch again with a ten-foot pole.

"Fuck my life," I moaned, wiping sweat off my forehead as I squatted back, breathing shallowly to try and settle the churning feeling in my gut. This was so not what I needed right now. As much as I hated to admit it, Dean had been right; I was barely in a state to compete tonight.

Slowly climbing to my feet, I hauled my ass into the shower, sitting down in the accompanying tub as the water sprayed down around me whilst I was still clad in my nightdress. I was a complete wreck. I could barely remember a thing from the bar, and that was never good. My memory was...selective, shall we say, hence why I could vividly remember something that happened five fucking years ago but not something that happened a mere five _hours_ ago.

Five years ago...

Tears dripped down my face as I remembered the kind of girl I had been five years ago, mingling in with the spray from the shower. I despised the Sav Jordan who existed from 2005 to 2010. I'd slept around, taken drugs, still been a borderline alcoholic and just been an all-around human trainwreck. I'd spent so much of my time either bleeding in the ring or being flat-out drunk, and being in that sort of state had eventually led me to a situation that caused me to do something I had always sworn I would never do. Something I still wasn't prepared to talk about.

"I'm still so sorry," I whispered brokenly, stripping out of my sopping wet nightie and running a hand over my flat stomach. I stood up on shaky legs with a heavy sigh, turning off the shower and heaving myself, not even bothering with a towel. I just dripped my way across the bathroom and into the other room.

I grabbed a cigarette from the pack lying on my bedside table and the _Batman_ lighter next to it, pushing open the doors to my room's balcony and sitting down cross-legged on the concrete floor in nothing but my underwear. I placed the cigarette between my lips and flicked my lighter open, taking a deep drag and exhaling the smoke through my mouth. Normally I dedicated my mornings to a half hour of yoga, but smoking seemed a hell of a lot more fitting today. I needed to clear my head.

The morning breeze chilled my skin and I shivered, staring out over the city skyline. Five years ago, if someone had told me that I'd have ended up sober, clean, stopped sleeping with any man I could and just generally become an okay person to be around, I'd have laughed in their face and then spat in it. I'd never wanted to be that girl, but I had the kind of mentality where I would automatically change myself to fit in with whatever situation I had gotten myself into. It was like the old phrase Evolution used before they disbanded all those years ago; I adapted, or I perished. I had no in between.

Last night, for example, I'd perished hardcore at the hands of the spirits I'd pumped into my body. No doubt I'd ended up making a complete fool of myself in front of Seth and Roman, which was literally the last thing I'd wanted to do. I was supposed to look professional, like I actually belonged this side of the roster, not like a stupid drunken little girl. This was the exact reason I'd quit drinking cold turkey three years ago, only allowing myself a few glasses or bottles here and there.

Somewhere in the depths of my room, Rihanna suddenly began to play out; my phone was ringing. Being pulled abruptly from my depressing internal monologue, I stubbed my cigarette out on the balcony railing and flicked it over the side, heading back in. Digging in my apple bag, I felt my hand close around the smooth plastic of the iPhone, and I quickly pulled it out, poised to answer.

 _ **-Incoming Call-  
**_ _ **Dean Ambrose**_

This was accompanied by a new contact photo; a hazy front camera selfie of me planting a sloppy kiss on Dean's cheek, a fluorescent bar sign lit up behind us. Oh for fuck sake. I must have taken the picture last night and somehow, in my state, managed to work the phone enough to set the picture.

Finger hovering over the screen, I slid the Decline Call bar across and placed the phone on my bed. Truth be told, Dean was precisely the _last_ person I wanted to talk to this morning. The fact I'd been in pyjamas when I woke up told me that someone had not only carried me back to my room last night, but had undressed me as well. Roman didn't like me, so I knew that it definitely hadn't been him. Seth didn't know me all that well yet so I doubted it had been him either. That left Dean, though why he'd actually put the effort in to help me, I didn't know. One of the times we'd gotten wasted together I'd fallen down two flights of stairs and broken my nose and all he'd done was stand there and laugh at me.

After choking down a couple of Advils with a bottle of orange juice, I opened my suitcase and began rummaging around inside for some clothes that would be suitable for running. I just really needed to get out of the hotel for a little while now I was up, beginning to function and starting to feel a little more...well, alive.

 _Na na na, come on!  
_ _Na na na, come on!_

"Okay, seriously, Dean!? Just leave me alone," I grumbled, grabbing my phone and getting ready to reject the call again when I saw who it was calling me this time.

 _ **-Incoming Call-  
Seth Rollins**_

Oh look, another new contact photo, though this one was a little less offensive- it was just Seth and I crossing our eyes and sticking out our tongues at the camera. Actually, it was quite adorable. I hit Accept this time, hoping that these were two totally unrelated calls. "Hi Rollins."

"Ha! See, Ambrose! Told ya she'd answer for me!" Seth's voice was far away and tinny, like he was shouting away from the mouthpiece.

"That bitch!" That came from Dean, naturally. Shit. They were all together. Welp, too late to hang up now. "Tell her that from me! Tell her she's a bitch!"

"Hey Sav. How're you feeling this morning?" Seth asked. "Oh, and Dean said you're a bitch."

"Tell me something I don't know. Um, how do I feel, like in a sentence? Like I've been hit by two trucks, four buses then been Tombstoned by the Undertaker for good measure. I've spent half of the morning spraying chunks all over the bathroom."

"So on a scale of one to ten, you're on like a nine?"

"Basically. How are you three, because I'm prepared to bet actual money that you're all in a hell of a better state than I am."

"Well, there's been no vomiting this end, but Dean looks like a recovering meth addict, Roman won't take his shades off and my head is killing me," he replied, and I detected a note of amusement in his voice.

"Consider me impressed," I said with a laugh, lying on my bed on my stomach with my legs crossed in the air behind me. "I guess you boys really can handle your liquor better than I can. So is that all you wanted, to see how I am? Seth, I'm flattered."

"It's half the reason. We're down in the gym and thought we'd see if you wanted to join us? You did, er, express some interest last night when we mentioned it," he answered.

"I did?" I frowned. "Honestly, I can't even remember anything that happened last night. It's all a huge black blur."

"Holy shit, Jordan. Now that. That is impressive," Seth chuckled.

"What can I say, I'm a woman of many talents," I joked. "But sure. I'd love to join you. I've got my match tonight, I should get a few hours workout in beforehand."

"Well hey, the hotel set a ring up down here so you can always run the ropes with one of us if you're up for it," he suggested.

I rolled around and sat up, grinning. "Now that sounds like a damn good idea, Rollins. I like how you think. Just keep Ambrose out of the ring, I've beaten him so many times that I could do it with my eyes closed."

"Hey! You're on speaker, Jordie!" Dean's far-away bark came through the phone. "Just remember that!"

"My heart bleeds for you, Deano," I said sarcastically. "Okay, give me twenty minutes and I'll be down there. I am so ready to kick your asses."

"You wish, Savvy, but I admire your ambition," Seth teased.

"You fucker," I said fondly, hanging up before he could hit me with a comeback. Going back to my suitcase, I quickly pulled out a pair of pink sports leggings, a white tank top with a melting PS3 controller graphic and pink and white Nikes. Once I was dressed, I braided my hair over my shoulder and tossed some other clothes, my water bottle, a towel and some shampoo into my gym backpack. Hopefully getting a good old-fashioned sweat on would be enough to scrub my mind of all the images of 2008 that had settled there.

I made my way down to the gym via the stairs because, hey, more effort. It had been a while since I'd had a match with a man; I prayed that I hadn't lost my edge. But as I walked into the near-empty gym and saw Roman bench-pressing at least two hundred pounds, Dean climbing up and down a rope like a freaking spider monkey and Seth doing handstand press-ups by the wall, all I could think was holy - fucking - hell.

What was I about to get myself into?

* * *

 **A/N- Okay, the ending sort of petered out there but I** _ **reaaaallllly**_ **wanted to get this out tonight! So please review, guys, it means a lot when you do, I'd love to know what you though of the past Sav and just anything else you liked! I'll update soon, because next chapter is Sav's offical Raw debut! Review, follow and fave, guys! Byeeee! Xx Gee xX**

 _ **Songs for chapter five:**_

 _ **In This Moment - Black Widow  
**_ _ **Papa Roach - Not That Beautiful**_

 **PS- If you hit up my profile, there's a link to a little Rosie/Jon tribute video that I made, well...because I lack better things to do with my life. Check it out! XD**


	6. Hell Hath No Fury

**A/N- *awkwardly twiddles thumbs* So...how's it goin'. I know. I'm a shit human being, I haven't updated in like almost three months. But I have my reasons! Between splintering my laptop screen, my insurance people telling me that actually, no, they won't be fixing my laptop because it wasn't an error on the company's behalf that broke the laptop, it was my own damn fault, to needing to save up the £300+ to get myself a new one...oh, and getting my ass dumped by the guy I was seeing...shit's been cray. Thank GOD I keep my fic stuff backed up on a memory stick. But I have returned, and I want to give some seriously delayed thanks to Lynn021, Roxie, angelsdee327 and Sarah for reviewing!**

* * *

 **Chapter Six- Hell Hath No Fury**

 _ **SavvyAsHellWWE: Killing it in the gym with my new besties. Look out, WWE. The Scarlet Vixen is here, and she's got her Hounds with her. #DontMessWithTexas  
**_ _ **Tweeted 08/04/13 09.26AM**_

"Argh! You crazy bitch, get off me!"

"Just say the word, Reigns, and I let go. Come on. Just five teeny-tiny little words."

"Like hell I will!"

"Alrighty. Just remember that you've brought this on yourself, Romey."

"Arrgghhh! Fuck! Dean! You're supposed to be the ref, bro, get her off my hair!"

"...Nah, I think I'll allow it this time."

"What the fuck?!"

"You heard him, I'm allowed. I believe the common phrase here would be 'favouritism.' Sorry hun, time to accept that you're now second place in Dean's life."

"Hey! What does that make me?"

"Third, Seth. Obviously."

"GET OFF, SAVANNAH!"

"SAY THE WORDS, ROMAN!"

"Alright! Alright, alright! …PlayStation is better than Xbox!"

"Ha!" I released Roman from what had to be the most illegal variation of the Chainsaw that I had; not bothering with his arms, I'd just locked my legs behind his neck and leaned backwards while pulling at his hair. "See? Looks like we can agree on something after all."

"You're insane. You know that, right?" Roman muttered, sitting up and rubbing his head.

"I've been told," I said with a shrug, kneeling next to him. "I didn't hurt you too much, did I?"

"Don't worry, baby girl, you're not that strong," he replied, rolling his eyes.

"Hey. What have I said about the 'baby girl' shit?" I reminded.

"Nothing except that you were gonna punch me in the mouth."

"Exactly. So just remember that. I ain't no one's baby girl."

"I swear you were never this defensive around guys before, Sav. What gives?" questioned Dean, who was standing behind Roman, dressed in basketball shorts and a tank top. After all these years, his workout gear still hadn't changed.

"No, I'm sure I was. Plus, spending a year of my early twenties in a shitty sort-of-relationship with a guy who fucked other whores behind my back, beat my ass black and blue in the ring, treated me like a princess then dropped me like a cold bag of puke the second another girl opened her legs to him and just generally barely gave a shred of a shit about how I felt - among other things - really changed my perspective on the male race. Oh. No. It really didn't," I bit out mordantly. "Now, who was that guy again…oh wait."

"You're still on that, huh?"

"I'm always gonna be on it, Ambrose. I'm good at holding grudges."

"No shit. You know I apologised for all that."

"No, you fucking didn't!"

"I didn't?" Dean looked comically confused. "Oh. Well, in that case, I'm sorry."

"Thanks, Dean. You're only four years late on that, but I appreciate the gesture." Now it was my turn to roll my eyes as I pushed myself to my feet, stretching out a little before offering my hand to Roman. "I extend to you the hand of friendship."

"Insane," Roman repeated, but he took my hand as he hauled himself to his feet.

"Maybe I am, but this insane girl just got you – a two hundred sixty-five pound Samoan – to pretty much verbally tap out," I pointed out.

"I don't think I tapped out, Sav," he argued. "You were ripping my hair out of the goddamn roots, I needed to get you off somehow!"

"Which is like the literal definition of tapping out, you fucking idiot!" I exclaimed, crossing my arms.

"No. I don't think it is."

"Really? 'Cause I do. I'm the woman, what I say goes."

"You've been with us barely a day, Jordan, it don't work that way."

"Maybe not, but it's _about_ to work that way. I'm the basically the princess of The Shield now, bitch. Better get used to it."

Roman snorted. "Yeah, if you're a princess, I'm the president."

I clapped him heartily on the shoulder. "That's the spirit. Keep aiming for the sky, Rome, you'll get there eventually. Who knows, one day you might even- nyaarhh!"

I was rather abruptly cut off as Roman swooped his arm around my legs and scooped me up over his shoulders before falling backwards, slamming me down into the mat in a Samoan drop and completely winding me. However, instead of just leaving me down there like he usually did when he hit the move on someone, he decided to go for the pin, pressing his entire weight down on my chest, hooking both my legs up.

I didn't even bother trying to kick out as Dean counted to three; I was too busy trying to remember what it felt like to have air in my lungs as I stared at the ceiling with a dazed expression. "Okay! Okay, you win, you win! Get your fat ass off me!" I coughed out. "Oh Jesus, I think you broke a rib..." Or five.

Roman sat up and turned to look down at my sprawling figure, smirking. "So what was that you said earlier about beating me in two minutes?"

"Oh, shut up, Roman," I snapped, leaning up on my elbows with a groan. "No one likes a cocky son of a bitch."

"Explains why you don't have many friends, then," he quipped, and my mouth dropped open.

"Damn, son. I'm not even offended by that because it was fucking quick," I admitted. "Savour that, because it's the only compliment you'll get from me for at least another month."

"I'm touched," he said sarcastically, before standing up and offering me his hand the same way I had him. "I extend to you the hand of friendship." What an asshole. I'd genuinely half-meant that statement and now he was just ripping the piss out of me.

"Go fuck yourself with a cactus," I said sweetly, though I did take his hand and let him help me up. Dear fuck, his hand was so big compared to mine that his fingers were able to literally close over my fist. He was also very hot...in the body temperature sense. Obviously.

"You're such a breath of fresh air, Sav," Seth bantered. "I think we've been too friendly with each other, boys."

"Nah, I'm just a hard-ass bitch," I retorted good-naturedly. "I don't take shit, and I don't give it out." Seth opened his mouth to reply, when the pre-set iPhone ringtone started sounding off the other end of the room where all our bags were dumped. "It probably goes without saying, but that ain't mine."

"Ain't mine either," said Dean.

Roman and Seth both looked at each other. "I didn't bother bringing my phone down, man," said Roman, shrugging.

"Crap!" Seth dropped down from the apron and sprinted across the room.

"Oh my God, he runs like such a girl!" I snickered as I watched Seth rummaging through his bag and seizing his phone, which he answered with a hasty, "Hello?"

"Runs like a girl, dresses like a girl, these are things Roman and I accepted a while ago," Dean said with a shrug.

"So, let me see if I've got this straight," I said. "There's Seth with the girl run, Roman with the girl hair, me with the girl everything...looks like we need to get you a dress, Deano, so you can fit in with the group's femininity."

"You've already seen me in a dress, darlin', that's not something that needs repeating," Dean mumbled, and Roman's eyes widen substantially.

"Er...bro? You wanna explain that?"

"2009 CZW Christmas party. Shit got real wild, real fast," I said nonchalantly, waving a hand dismissively. "It's safe to say I haven't touched a drop of absinthe since."

"Lightweight," Dean snorted.

"No, I just know that a great indication that my judgement will be impaired is when I temporarily go blind for ten minutes," I retorted. "Unlike certain people who yell out, 'Dude, who turned out the fucking lights?!' before falling headfirst into the punch bowl and announcing that 'I'm finding Nemo!'"

Hearing Roman Reigns laugh was a very alien concept to me. Yet here he was, actually bent double laughing at something I'd said. Granted, he was laughing at Dean's misfortune, but at this point I'd take what I could get. He might not like me, but if telling him stories of mine and Dean's youth worked somewhat then I'd stick with him just finding me halfway amusing.

"Oh, you think that's funny, Reigns? Huh?" Dean mock-snapped, and the next thing I knew, he had the Samoan in a brutal headlock, both of them practically honking with laughter. "How funny you finding this? Huh, Reigns? You like that?"

"Not as much as you're gonna like this, Ambrose!" Roman grunted, suddenly ripping his head out of Dean's grasp, picking him up and spinebusting him. Well, it all kicked off then as Dean lurched to his feet and lunged at Roman. They weren't even using real moves on each other now, they were just grappling around, pushing and shoving and grabbing.

"Men," I sighed, shaking my head as I climbed through the ropes and waited on the apron to get out of their way.

"Hey! Guys, knock it off!" Seth's voice rang out behind me and he joined me on the apron.

"Hey boys, you heard your mom," I teased, lightly elbowing Seth. "Quit it!" Surprisingly, both of them froze. I turned to Seth. "What up, Two-Tone?"

"That was Vickie Guerrero," Seth said, sounding like he had a headache. I couldn't say I blamed him; even on TV, Vickie's grating tones had me reaching for some migraine tablets.

"What she want?" grunted Dean, whose voice was muffled due to having his face pressed into the mat by Roman.

"We've got a change of plan," Seth replied. "We gotta get to the arena early."

"Why?" questioned Roman.

"Photoshoot." Cue all three men groaning like they'd just been told they had to walk around the arena cleaning up dog shit.

"Why the _fuck_ do we need to do another photoshoot?" grumbled Dean, shoving Roman off him and standing up.

"Sav's gotta do her first set of promo shots," the all-knowing Rollins explained. "And we need to shoot new ones with her in."

"I'm having a photoshoot?!" I squealed, clapping my hands and mentally reverting back into a nine-year-old. "Oh my God, I can't even remember the last time I had an official shoot!" Three pairs of eyes turned to me. I cleared my throat and deepened my voice. "Er...I mean...photoshoot. Cool. Yeah. Probably gonna be a waste of time but whatever." They carried on staring. "I'm not fooling any of you, am I?"

"No, Jordie, you're really not," said Dean, shaking his head. "Subtlety's never been your strong point."

* * *

"Wow. This is...wow..." I breathed as I stepped out of the passenger seat of the boys' rental car and stared up at the IZOD Centre. Even though the MetLife Stadium had been so much bigger and had held over seventy thousand more people, everywhere was gonna look huge compared to Full Sail University for the next few months.

"A pretty big step up from The Arena back in Philly, huh," said Dean, referring to the pet name of the building where CZW was taped.

"Yeah, no shit," I replied, linking my arm through his as the two of us - followed by Roman and Seth - began to walk into the building, trailing our suitcases behind us. "If Jon and Rosie could see us now."

"They'd be shocked that we're actually touching without beating the hell out of each other or fucking," said Dean.

"Hey! No negativity!" I exclaimed, slapping his shoulder.

"Must make a change for you," I heard Roman mutter behind us, so I turned my head to stick my tongue out at him. He and Seth were walking a lot slower than Dean and I since they'd spent the entire car journey cramped up in the back seat together and were pretty stiff. The company had had my own rental picked up early this morning as I would now be officially carpooling with these three morons, so I'd placed myself in an eternal state of shotgun.

"Come on, you couple of grandpas, catch up!" I called to them, and earned myself two middle finger salutes for my trouble. "Fine! Fuck y'all, then!" I returned their salute with my arm that wasn't linked through Dean's.

"Yeah, Dean Ambrose, Roman Reigns, Seth Rollins, Savannah Jordan. The Shield, whatever we're down as," Dean was, meanwhile, saying to the member of security who was standing by the door looking all professional with his clipboard. The guy nodded and allowed us through without argument.

The heels of my cowboy boots clicked loudly against the concrete floor of the backstage area. It was by no means dead back here, with stagehands running around everywhere and the occasional Superstars wandering around, but I had a feeling it would get even more manic once the rest of the roster arrived. The four of us were quite quiet as we navigated our way in the direction we'd been told our dressing room was, aside from Roman and Seth having a minor dispute about the football teams they supported (I had to chip my two cents in about my beloved Dallas Cowboys). But as we turned a corner…

"Oh my God, who let this piece of trash in the building?" Nikki and Brie Bella were coming up the corridor in our direction, and as soon as they saw me they came to a halt, arms crossed, bitchy expressions in place, totally blocking the corridors.

"Oh shit, am I in the wrong place?" I said innocently, cocking my head to the side. "I thought this was where Raw was being taped, not the headquarters for Escorts R Us. It's good you're letting all that plastic breathe through your neckline, Nikki. Hope you've got plenty of tit tape."

Nikki's face turned a rather unappealing shade of mottled red, though she kept her tone very neutral. "Jealousy isn't an attractive trait in a woman, Savannah. At least I don't dress like I'm still clinging to my fifteen-year-old self." She ran her eyes over my acid-wash skinny jeans, shredded t-shirt that read PARENTAL ADVISORY, EXPLICIT CONTENT and necklace that said 'Zombie' in the Barbie font and sneered.

"Better to dress like a fifteen-year-old than someone who's on the lookout for their next sugar daddy," I shot back. "How's things going with Cena, by the way? I can only imagine the kind of night you had now that he's World Champion. Again. I expect you found all sorts of new ways to _suck_ , if you catch my drift."

"You total bitch!" she shrieked, starting to storm towards me.

"Oh, you wanna go, whore?!" I shouted, clenching my fist and making to lunge forwards when I felt a set of arms around my waist. A set of very muscular, very tanned arms. Roman. Brie had done the same to Nikki, pinning her sister down.

I twisted my head up to glare at Roman. "Let me the fuck go, Roman, I mean it!"

"Hell no. You're not getting into a backstage fight on your second day," he said reasonably, not loosening his grip at all.

Brie was also trying to reason with Nikki. "Don't do it, Nicole, she isn't worth it!"

Nikki pulled herself out of Brie's arms and straightened up, adjusting her black crop-and-midi set and breathing heavily. "Sorry. You're so right, Brie. I don't need to waste time and energy on a sad little girl who's only here because her ex-fuck buddy is still hung up on her and got her the call-up."

"Bitch, I will slap the veneers out of your goddamn teeth," I snarled, and I didn't miss the feeling of Roman tightening his arms that little bit more around me.

"Okay, okay, okay, everyone calm down!" Ah, Seth. Ever the peacemaker. "Brie, Nikki, Savannah didn't come here to start anything with either of you. Just let us get on with our business, you can do the same, and everyone's happy."

"Aw, it's so adorable that you're all already defending her," Nikki said sweetly. "So what's this gonna be, some kind of carousel arrangement? I mean, she's already slept with Dean, so are you next, Roman? You were awful quick to protect her just then. She fucks around with you for a few months before you pass her on to Seth? I heard that's how she rolled in the Indy days."

"Motherfucker!" I screamed, going to take a flying leap at Nikki when Roman lifted me up with all the ease as if I was a child and put me across his shoulders like he had earlier when he set me up for the Samoan drop. Only this time, he kept a firm hold on me, effectively preventing me from doing much more than wiggling furiously as a stream of curses flooded from my mouth.

"Always nice to see you ladies, but I think we'll be going now," Dean drawled, mockingly tipping the brim of his baseball cap at the Bellas before he, Seth and Roman smartly pushed past them, with me still struggling on Roman's shoulders. He didn't even consider putting me down until we'd found the door that proudly displayed the words **THE SHIELD (SETH ROLLINS, ROMAN REIGNS, SAVANNAH JORDAN, DEAN AMBROSE)** on it.

"You didn't have to do that, Roman!" I snarled as he lowered me to my feet, crossing my arms and scowling at him.

"No, you're right, I should have let you pop Nikki's implants so you got fired already, how could I have been so stupid?" he said mordantly.

"I wouldn't have popped her implants, asshole," I snapped. "I just would have torn out her hair extensions." And with that, I shoved open the dressing room door and stormed inside, leaving all three men behind me wondering if it was a safe idea to follow me in.

* * *

Holy. Fucking. Shit. I never realised that being a main roster Diva would require me to have so many outfit changes. I assumed I'd have kept the clothes from WrestleMania to use as my valet gear and wear whatever I'd had back down in NXT as my ring gear.

Nope. I could not have been more wrong. The first thing I'd noticed in one of the four cubby holes in our dressing room was three separate clothing bags. One labeled _VALET_ , one labeled _RING GEAR_ , and the final one labeled _08/04 PHOTOSHOOT_.

The _VALET_ bag contained a black bolero jacket with gold studded shoulders, gold studs decorating the neckline and lapels and a Hounds of Justice patch sewed to the left breast, along with a black leather crop top with a V-neck, black denim shorts with garter straps dangling on each leg, utterly shredded black tights, plain black combat boots and long black fishnet gloves.

Inside the _RING GEAR_ bag was another pair of black shorts - though these were ripped up and made of a combat material, and one leg had a mock gun holster trailing from it - a black PVC crop that had glittered cups with studs along the curve of them and another Hounds of Justice patch in the centre, deliberately laddered tights, another pair of black combat boots (decorated with chains and lace) and black leather fingerless gloves.

So basically, no matter where I was, I would look like a total badass that no one would fuck with unless they had a death wish. But the photoshoot clothes...oh my God, the photoshoot clothes...

One pair of ripped black skinny jeans. Over-the-knee flat boots, one red, one black a la _Arkham City's_ Harley Quinn. A leather jacket. A bralet coated in just gold studs. It was perfect. All of it was just so perfect. I had vacated to the en suite bathroom to do my first change, as I didn't quite feel comfortable enough yet around Seth and Roman to strip in front of them, regardless of what they'd seen yesterday at MetLife.

My hands were practically trembling as I pulled the red boot over my left leg, I was so in awe of this entire situation I was in. My main and only reservation I had about the outfit was the top, or lack thereof. The bralet had extra padding in which resulted in my C cups practically sitting under my chin.

"Guys, I need an honest opinion here," I said, emerging from the bathroom. "And since I have no other friends, you're the people who have the great honor."

"We ain't your gal pals, S," said Dean, leaning back against the wall with his arms crossed. He and the other two were already dressed in their own gear, Dean in a tight black tank top, cargo pants and combat boots, Roman in his tactical vest and Seth in a short-sleeved black t-shirt.

"No, but since you're all officially now my big brothers, the task still falls to you. So suck it up," I returned. I spun around in a slow circle. "Do I look like a hooker? Truthfully, please. I swear that I probably won't get offended."

The three of them paused, which wasn't exactly a good sign to me, running their eyes up and down my body. Now I immediately regretted asking, especially when I caught Dean's eyes lingering just that little bit too long.

"It's not that you look like a hooker," Seth tactfully began. "It's just-"

"-that you look like a hooker," finished Dean.

I rolled my eyes. "Well. I asked for honesty, that's what I got. I'm just gonna make one...little...adjustment..." I mumbled as I rooted through my backpack until I came across what I was looking for; a red and black plastic choker designed to look like stitches. The choker I'd worn throughout my entire CZW career. The choker from last night's dream.

"Woah. I can't believe you fucking kept this," said Dean, running his finger over the plastic once I'd fastened it around my neck.

"What can I say? You can take the girl out of CZW, but I guess you can't take all of CZW out of the girl." I smiled at him. "I figured I'd add it to my gear. See if it brings us any luck. Now let's get outta here, boys. We have some pictures to shoot. Sorry, but you're about to be upstaged by the hottest person on this roster."

"I didn't realise we were having a shoot with the Bellas as well," quipped Dean as we all trooped out of the door. "Argh, you bitch!" he yelped when I then kicked him in the shin.

* * *

The pictures had been taken. Our clothes had been changed. I was in my 'valet' gear. My hair was wet. The show had begun. Raw had been broadcasting for the better part of fifteen minutes, and I was already getting annoyed with my dear new 'brothers.'

"Five minutes. I take a five minute snack break and you three start sending out cryptic Tweets without me," I said, offended, as I stormed back into the dressing room with my phone displaying said offensive Tweet from our joint account. " _At WrestleMania we sent a message. Tonight, the impact we have on hashtag Raw will be historic...hashtag, Believe In The Shield_ ," I read aloud before looking at the boys. "What the fuck are we planning?"

"Remember that thing you said about wanting to leave an impression on the WWE Universe?" asked Seth, muting the TV that was playing the match going on; Daniel Bryan vs. Big E Langston.

Glancing at the screen, I couldn't help but wonder why AJ Lee had decided to accompany her boyfriend Dolph Ziggler to the ring to support Big E when she should have been prepping for our match. Whatever. It would be her funeral. Ignoring that, I mutely nodded at Seth. "We were thinking...why wait until your match?" he continued.

I twisted my hand around in the air in a 'keep talking' gesture. "You're still not giving me a whole lot there, Sethie."

"Sav. Think about it. Think about the fucking _huge_ Superstar who's decided to stick around for a few weeks after WrestleMania," Dean said as obviously as we could. "The fucking huge Superstar who just added another win to his Streak."

My eyes practically popped out on stalks. "Tell me you assholes aren't fucking stupid enough to be suggesting that we go after the fucking UNDERTAKER!?"

"Ding, ding, ding, she gets it in one!" Dean mockingly cheered. "Oh come on Sav, don't look so shocked. This is what it's all about! Get psyched!"

"You want me to help you attack The Undertaker!" I shrieked. "How can I get psyched about that?!"

"Because you're part of The Shield, darlin'," he replied. "This is what you signed up for. The Undertaker thinks he's untouchable. That he's at the top, he's unbeatable. We say it's time to knock The Phenom down a peg or two."

"You're crazy," I said, shaking my head. "All three of you. Fucking crazy. The _Undertaker_?! But fuck it, you're right. I'm part of The Shield, so I've got your backs. You wanna go after Taker, let's fucking go after Taker. I could probably use the adrenaline for my match anyway." Like The Undertaker would actually stay to fight a bunch of newbies who had either A) Only been on the roster six months or B) Been on the roster...oh, you know, twenty-four hours. Nah. No way would he waste his time on the likes of us.

"That's the spirit, Savvy," Dean said with a smirk, draping his arm around my shoulder and half-forcibly directing me to a bench so we could sit down, watch the show and wait for our cue.

It didn't take long. After sitting through an Intercontinental Title match between Miz and Wade Barrett, Jack Swagger and Zeb Colter vs. Alberto del Rio and a successful Money In The Bank cash in from Ziggler to become Heavyweight Champion, those very familiar, very iconic chimes rang through the arena. The Undertaker had arrived.

"Go, go, go, go!" hissed Seth, and the four of us leaped to our feet and practically sprinted from the room. It goes without saying, but we got some pretty weird looks from the backstage staff as we fled through the corridors, which was weird. The guys had a habit of sneak attacking random Superstars, you'd think they'd be used to it by now.

We waited by an entrance at the top of the arena, by some doors that led to a set of stairs going through the crowd, natch. For a minute, we listened to Taker droning on about how his match against CM Punk had been in memory of Paul Bearer - a speech punctuated by 'Un-der-ta-ker!' chants - but we all four quickly got bored.

"Fuck this," muttered Dean, signaling to a nearby tech stooge to play our entrance. He quickly complied.

 _Sierra. Hotel. India. Echo. Lima. Delta. Shield._

Roman and I dispersed to the left again, Dean and Seth on the right. Oh my God, some of these fans were _so_ not happy that we'd interrupted Undertaker. There were some serious boos mixed in with the cheers we were getting. I didn't care. The energy through the room was electrifying; I was swagging my way down those stairs with my hands gripping my bolero Bane-style. The closer we got to the ring, I could see that Taker had removed his badass hood. Oh FUCK, he was ready to fight! I DIDN'T PLAN FOR THAT!

"Now we know what that Tweet meant earlier tonight," Michael Cole commented. "When The Shield said, 'last night we sent a message on the biggest stage. Tonight, the impact we have on Raw will be historic'. And look who they've got with them again. Savannah Jordan, clearly now a permanent member of The Shield."

 _This_ _so_ _was not my idea_ , I wanted to say, but I stuck to sulkily thinking it as Roman and I were groped from all angles on our way down.

"-the _audacity_ of these four!" Jerry Lawler sounded fucking incensed at our nerve. Hell, if I wasn't a part of it, I probably would have too. _No one_ had the right to interrupt a legend like The Undertaker.

"But this will indeed be historic!" insisted Cole. "Ambrose, Jordan, Reigns and Rollins, apparently with their sights set on the Deadman." I was about to throw up. Was I really going to _willingly_ spring a four-on-one assault on an old man?! I didn't care who he was - Undertaker or not - it seemed wrong for four twenty-somethings to lay a beatdown on a man at least twenty years older than us.

The second we cleared the barrier, Taker shed himself of his cloak and settled into the middle of the ring, poised to attack. We surrounded the ring, one of us at each side of the squared circle, simultaneously creeping up onto the apron, gripping the ropes in our hands. I didn't think it was possible, but Undertaker actually looked...no...he couldn't...was he...intimidated? By _us_? No fucking way.

Somehow, seeing that gave me some sort of a sick buzz, enough that I actually started to analyse Taker for a weak spot that I could strike first. I had my feet on the second rope as I leaned over the top one, ready to spring into action the second one of the guys gave the signal. But suddenly, out of nowhere-

"LORD JESUS HELP ME!" I screamed as fire exploded from the ring posts, Team Hell No's music blasting through the speakers as the force of the explosion knocked me clean off the the ring and caused me to land in a heap on the floor. Um, ow, much?! Straightening up on my (grazed) hands and knees, I looked to see Daniel Bryan and Kane coming barreling down the ramp. A hand closed under my arm, and I looked up to see Seth dragging me to my feet and round to the other side of the ring where Dean and Roman had rendezvoused. "It isn't worth this," he muttered when we were all together, and none of us were prepared to argue. I wasn't about to get my damn legs broken by the Brothers of Destruction and an underdeveloped goat - all of whom were now in the ring, staring us down - just to prove a point.

"You know what? Screw this," I spat, jumping back over the barricade. "Boys! We're leaving! NOW!" They all three hesitated for a moment, staring back at the men in the ring, but Roman soon directed the traffic back towards me, much to the fans' shock and dismay. Now they _really_ were not happy; the boos were extremely audible in amongst the coward comments. One dude even yelled, "So much for letting out a war cry, huh?" right in my face as we reached the top of the stairs.

"...I feel like that could of gone better," I said dryly once we were safely backstage again, in a near-empty corridor.

"It's fine. Okay? It's fine!" insisted Seth. "So maybe we didn't plan for him to have backup. Whatever. We can eliminate Hell No on SmackDown. The Deadman's sticking around for a while. We'll get our shot."

"We should have had our fucking shot tonight," grumbled Dean, looking severely pissed off.

"Seth's right. It don't matter," said Roman. "What matters is that they know we ain't backing down."

"Which would be great," I piped up. "If we hadn't just backed down."

"Did you want to go back out there and take all three of them on unprepared?" Roman snapped, gesturing at the door. "Be my guest."

"No, Roman, what I fucking meant was-" I began heatedly, only to be cut off.

"Um...hi...er, The Shield?" A mousy-haired female stagehand popped up out of nowhere. "I'm, er, I'm so sorry to interrupt you, but Savannah, Vickie Guerrero would like to see you for a small meeting in twenty minutes? She said she has something urgent and private to discuss with you."

I huffed out a sigh. "Oh fantastic, now I'm probably about to get my ass verbally handed to me for this shitty stunt. Thanks, dickheads, I really owe you one." I turned back to the stagehand. "Tell Vickie I'll be there ASAP. I need a slice of fucking cake before I can deal with her shit."

* * *

"What do you mean?!" I shrieked twenty-five minutes later, two seconds away from knocking Brad Maddox's head off his fucking shoulders.

"We're sorry, Savannah, truly, we are," he said insincerely. "But due to the unforeseeable circumstances of having to cut the mixed tag match from WrestleMania, we added it to the card tonight. And...well...there just isn't the time to have another Divas match."

"So why couldn't you have cut another match?! _Any other match_?! Please, you don't understand, this was supposed to be the day I showed everyone who didn't watch NXT exactly who I am and why I'm not to be messed with!"

"Excuse me!" Vickie Guerrero exclaimed in that fucking voice. "You need to calm down, Miss Jordan! I am the Raw managing supervisor and I have made this decision on good authority!"

"And you're only just telling me this _now_?! Are you kidding me!? I was supposed to go out there in two matches' time!" I pointed at the screen broadcasting Sheamus vs. Big Show.

"It was a last minute decision," she replied curtly. _No shit!_ I felt like screaming. "We were trying to work out how to fit you in. Instead, you'll be debuting in the ring during SmackDown."

"YOU WANT ME TO DEBUT ON SMACKDOWN?!" A crashed echoed through the room as I knocked a framed poster off the wall with my arm. "IS THAT A JOKE?! THIS IS THE POST-MANIA RAW, I WAS SUPPOSED TO MAKE AN IMPACT!"

"Yes, and now you're having a tantrum," said Maddox. "Savannah, sweetheart, you've already quite the impact tonight with your little Hounds, haven't you, with your attempted attack on The Undertaker? Let's not get greedy."

"Listen here, you smarmy son of a bitch-" I snarled, taking a step forward, only for him to take a step back from me. I stopped, brushing my damp hair back, and took a deep breath. "You know what?! Fine! Freaking _fine_! You want me on SmackDown, I'll be on SmackDown! But just know that if _anything_ happens to alter my match, it's you two who I'm coming for. And believe me when I say that I don't care who you are, I will happily hurt you just as badly. And get that goddamn camera out of my face!" I added to the cameraman to my left, placing my hand over the lens and shoving it backwards as I stormed out of the room.

"MOTHERFUCKING CUNTS!" I screamed once back in the safety of The Shield locker room, tossing a chair at the wall before sitting down with my head in my hands, tears streaming down my face. How had this gone so wrong so quickly? Tonight was supposed to be my night...now I was leaving my first Monday Night Raw having accomplished nothing.

Since the boys had disappeared to use the communal men's shower room, I angrily tore myself out of my valet gear and hung it back in its clothing bag, changing back into my clothes from earlier. It wasn't like I fucking needed my new ring gear, was it? For the next two matches and crappy promos, I stared glassily at the screen, barely acknowledging Dean, Seth and Roman when they returned, also back in their own clothes.

"Sav? What are you doing? Don't you need to be in your ring gear?" asked Seth, frowning at me.

"No. I fucking don't, Seth, and you wanna know why?!" I raged, causing him to physically flinch back from me. "Because my fucking match got cut and apparently I'm the last fucking person to know! And do you know what it fucking go cancelled for!? THIS FUCKING SHIT!" I turned the volume up on the TV, as the mixed tag match had just started.

"Oh crap," Roman said quietly as the Bella Twins appeared on screen. At least he now got why I was even more pissed than was probably acceptable.

"Yeah," I bit out. "Oh crap, right? God knows what fucking strings those Bella Bitches had to pull to get their match to take precedence over mine, but what-the-fuck-ever."

So I sat through the match, steadily getting angrier and angrier and angrier. What gave them the right?! Huh?! What gave Nikki, Brie, Cameron and Naomi the right to have their match chosen over mine?! I'd busted my ass since I was fourteen to make it to WWE, only to have my first match ripped from under my feet! I deserved better than this, and I was going to fucking prove it, tonight, on Raw. I didn't fucking care anymore.

The second the bell tolled, Tons of Funk picking up the win, I was on my feet and running. I ignored the boys yelling after me, ignored the second load of stares I was getting, and I ignored how utterly fucking insane I probably looked.

"Play my music!" I panted at the techie waiting in the gorilla. He didn't even move. "PLAY MY MUSIC!" I screeched, and the poor man jumped so hard I think he shit himself. He jabbed at a few buttons, and seconds later, _Comanche_ by In This Moment was echoing throughout the arena as I shoved my way through the curtain and out onto the ramp.

 _I feel the pressure is building in me,  
My stomach's sick, it's getting harder to breathe.  
I hear the screaming, I feel the disease,  
There's blood in the air, and there is death in the breeze!_

Everyone halted. No one knew what was happening. The Funkadactyls stopped celebrating in the ring. The Bellas stopped throwing tantrums at ringside. They just...stared at me. I'd never seen four women look so confused.

 _Won't you come with me?  
_ _Won't you stand with me?  
_ _Won't you follow me?  
_ _Won't you believe with me?  
T_ _ell me you'll bleed with me!  
_ _Tell me you'll die with me!  
_ _COME ON, COME ON, LET ME HEAR YOUR WAR CRY!_

So they still stared. Stared until I started to run down the ramp, seized hold of Nikki by the hair and bounced her head off of the apron.

"Oh my God!" shrieked Brie, but she got cut off pretty effectively when I grabbed her by the scruff of her top, whirled her around and threw her face-first into the ringpost.

"What the hell is going on?!" Michael Cole was squawking. "That- that's Savannah Jordan from earlier on, Savannah of The Shield! What is she doing out here?!"

"She has totally snapped!" yelled Jerry Lawler. "I guess she hasn't taken kindly to her match being cancelled, as we saw earlier!"

"You're damn right I haven't!" I shouted, climbing to the top turnbuckle and taking advantage of the Funkadactyls' shocked paralysis to jump down and nail Cameron with a missile dropkick, flooring her as well. Three down, one to go. I backed up to the rope and rebounded off, hitting Naomi with a spear Roman would have been proud of. But I wasn't done.

I rolled out of the ring and grabbed hold of Nikki, shoving her back in since she wasn't putting up a fight. I pulled her up into a standing position by the corner of the ring, climbed to the second rope myself and jumped, spiking her with my finishing inverted tornado DDT, aka, the Southern Belle.

"Give me a mic!" I yelled at ringside technition, ignoring the sounds behind me of four groaning women getting carried away by their tag partners. Meanwhile, the crowd around had totally lost it; they were booing me like it was going out of fashion. As I raised my mic to my lips, I couldn't help but smirk. Music to my ears.

"So! There's a new Diva on the block! A Diva who can actually put up a fight and prove exactly why she deserves to be here! I know, I know, you're all shocked. You're so used to seeing a bunch of wannabe models and actresses throwing half-assed slaps to get themselves noticed. Well not anymore. Because I am about to redefine what you all associate a Diva to be nowadays. I am ruthless. I am fearless. I am heartless. My name is Savannah Jordan, and I am about to tear the goddamn roof off of this company!"

The boos got even louder, not that I was surprised. I'd just outed their precious Bellas, and their Funkadactyls, their Alicia Foxes, and their AJs.

"Oh, boo hoo, cry me a river! I'm not here to be pretty or to model clothes or wear a ton of make-up and false nails. I'm here to remind everyone what it means to be a Diva in this company! I've been beaten black and blue, I've had my hair torn from the roots, I've been cut open with barbed wire, I have set goddamn tables on fire then been shoved through them! I'm not gonna sit in that locker room and be second fiddle to a bunch of has-been bitches who don't know a trashcan from a mirror! So to all of you sitting backstage watching this: I'm clawing my way to the top, ladies, and I don't care who I go through to get there. It's your choice if you get with that program or ignore it, but you'll be the ones crying in the corner over your broken bones and shattered teeth when I'm through with you. Because with my boys at my side, just know that nothing will stop me now. So believe that...and believe in The Shield."

And with that, I dropped my mic so the feedback whined through the speakers and rolled out of the ring, my music playing out like a fanfare behind me as I skipped my way back up the aisle to backstage. Seth was right; I so didn't need to wait for my first match to leave an impression on the WWE Universe.

* * *

 **A/N- I hope the extra long chapter makes up for my hiatus! Let me know what you thought! Again, I am so sorry for how long this has taken, hopeful the next chapter won't be so delayed! Until then, review, follow, fave! I love you all! Xx Gee xX**

 _ **Songs for Chapter Six:  
Porcelain and the Tramps - Gasoline**_


	7. Going For Gold

**A/N- Thank you so much to xXxShonxXx, Lynn021, Shield316, Emzy2k11, mystic twilight princess and jorja for reviewing!**

* * *

 **Chapter Seven- Going For Gold**

* * *

 _ **~Six weeks later ~  
~ May 19th 2013 - Extreme Rules ~**_

* * *

 _ **SavvyAsHellWWE: Going back to my roots tonight, ladies and gents. Savannah Rose is making a guest appearance. Your time's up, KaitlynWWE. #ExtremeRules  
**_ _ **Tweeted 05/19/13 17.47PM**_

"Boys! Are you ready to totally fucking crush it tonight?" I exclaimed, tying a tight knot in my shiny new combat boots bought especially for the pay-per-view.

"As ready as we're gonna be," Dean muttered, then he snorted. "You fucking kidding, Sav? Four of us, four belts. We're so ready they may as well just give us the titles now."

"Where's the fun in that?" Seth smirked. "I can't wait to rip those belts out of Team Hell No's cold, unresponsive hands."

"Not as much as I can't wait to permanently ground Kingston," Dean growled, cracking his knuckles menacingly. "By the end of the night we'll all be wearing gold around our waists, boys and girl."

"Our first title shots," said Seth, putting his arm around me. "Let's make 'em count."

"Arm off shoulders, Rollins," I warned, shaking him off, scooching across the bench and out of his reach. "I still haven't forgiven you."

"I've done nothing wrong, it's been a week, get over it," Seth said with a roll of his eyes.

"No! You're the reason my phone now contains A Day To Remember, Hit The Lights and some Bring Me The Horizon! You got me into your stupid hipster music, and that is unforgivable in my eyes!" I exclaimed.

"It's not my fault I finally introduced you to some decent tunes," he replied, grinning at me.

I turned my head away to look at the wall and crossed my arms. "Seth, I swear to God, if you get any cockier about this, I will break both your kneecaps then give up my Divas title shot and team with Roman to get the tag ones."

"Yeah, right. The two of you could totally function together in the ring long enough to beat Kane and Bryan."

"Er, are you forgetting our spectacular win over AJ and Big E on SmackDown two weeks ago?" I turned back and cupped my hand around my ear. "I'm not hearing a no. Oh right, that's because how could anyone forget how we totally fucking OWNED them both?"

"But who got the pin?" Roman decided to input. "Me, wasn't it?"

"Wow, really, Roman?" I sighed heavily. "You just had to shit all over my point, didn't you? I'm trying to defend us here!"

"It's what I do best, baby girl." Now he was grinning all smug-like at me too.

"And there goes your good luck hug."

"I'm sure I'll survive, Jordan."

"Don't test me, Reigns."

You'd be forgiven for thinking that after working, travelling and rooming with each other for the past almost two months, Roman and I would have put our initial differences behind us and become the bestest of buddies. You'd be forgiven, because you'd be so, so, so, so, _so_ wrong. Roman Reigns and I just could not get along, no matter how hard we'd tried.

And believe me, we'd really tried.

For the first initial week after the post-Mania Raw, Roman and I – after several pushes from Dean and Seth – had well and truly attempted to make amends. We didn't argue, we didn't make digs, hell, Dean and Seth even sent us both off to see the _Evil Dead_ remake in the theatre to prove we could make it through the night without Dean or Seth to keep us civil. (Not the best film choice, it transpired. While I was an avid horror junkie and would watch anything containing ghosts, zombies, possession, blood, guts and gore – with the exception of most remakes, though I had been pleasantly surprised by this one – Roman was…less into it. The second one of the characters started slicing through her cheek with a shard of glass, Roman was out of his seat and hurling in the men's bathroom.)

However…not too long after that…The Shield experienced our first loss. During my very first European tour, our undefeated streak was broken, pretty ironically, by The Undertaker. He got Dean to tap out to Hell's Gate on SmackDown - on fucking SmackDown of all places - during the ongoing feud between us, the Brothers of Destruction and Daniel Goatface.

I mean, sure, naturally we'd neutralized the entire thing by beating the living shit out of the Deadman. Between Roman spearing the old man through a barricade and all three of them Triple Powerbombing him through the announcers table on my call, we'd inflicted the damage we intended. But the damage to us as a faction was psychological, and the cracks didn't show until we got backstage.

I went crazy at Dean for tapping out, saying he could have held on longer. Dean started screaming about how it shouldn't have counted as a loss any-fucking-way. Seth was then yelling about how it didn't matter what Dean thought it should or shouldn't count as because it still went in the books as our first documented loss. It took approximately five seconds for it then to completely break down between the three of us, a screaming match that resulted in Seth kicking a dent into a locker, Dean smashing a chair, me breaking a mirror and Roman left trying to glue the team back together.

He tried to get in between us all, and I ended up bitch-slapping him so hard that I gave him a black eye. No, I am not making this up. From that moment on, every minor step forward we'd taken to becoming friends became a massive step really didn't help that exactly a week later we got completely decimated in an intergender tag match between us, Team Hell No, Taker and Brie Bella. And so, here we are today.

"Can you go one day without an argument?" asked Seth, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Just out of curiosity?"

"Probably not," Roman and I replied in unison before returning to glowering at each other.

"Hey, leave 'em alone, Seth," smirked Dean. "It ain't their fault this is the only way they can deal with the sexual tension."

"Don't make me break your kneecaps too, Ambrose," I warned. "There's no fucking sexual tension, how many times do we need to say that!? You've been on this for the last fucking month, give it a rest!"

"We'll give it a rest when you two fuck and get it outta your systems," he shot back.

"Man, shut up!" groaned Roman, throwing a punch at Dean's shoulder. "There's no tension! No offense, Red, but you're not really my type."

I quirked an irritated brow. Roman and that stupid fucking nickname. Yes, I was shorter than him, yes, I had red hair. I failed to see how that warranted the nickname of 'Little Red.' It had spawned out of nowhere during our forced friendship stage, and because he knew it annoyed me no end, Roman hadn't let it die.

"Don't worry about offending me, sweetheart," I said coolly. "You're not exactly my type either." Okay, even I could admit this was a huge lie. Roman was exactly my type. The strong-but-silent type, brutal in the ring, confident and talented, he was even a gamer like me - though his choice of console sucked dick - and not to mention, he was completely fucking gorgeous. Of course, I fought hard to quash all of these thoughts, given that he was a massive twat towards me. So maybe I wasn't exactly Miss Sweetness and Light to him either, but he started it.

"Anyway, how the fuck am I not your type?" I continued, crossing my arms. "Look at me. I'm perfect."

"Perfectly irritating," he quipped.

"Bitch, I will cut you."

"ENOUGH." Seth suddenly stood up with a shout, looking between Roman and I. "Guys, seriously, come on! This is a huge night for us, we can't afford any distractions!"

"Fucking hell, Seth," I sighed, rolling my eyes. "Is it your time of the month or something? Relax. Take a breather. You know Roman and I won't let our, um, differences-"

"That's putting it lightly," muttered Roman.

"-shut up, Reigns. Anyway, we won't let our differences get in the way of what's important." I threw my arms out to emphasize my point, accidentally whacking Dean in the stomach as I did so. "We're all professionals here. We know when to leave personal shit in the locker room."

"Holy shit Sav, that might be the most intelligent you've ever sounded," chuckled Dean, though he sounded vaguely winded.

"Well, it had to happen sometime," I said with a grin, before offering my hand to Roman. "What do you say, Romey? Bury the hatchet for the night? Truce?"

Roman took my hand and shook it the once. "Truce." He raised an eyebrow at Seth. "Happy, bro? No more arguments for the day."

"Not exactly, but I'll take what I can get," the two-toned one grumbled.

Dean clapped him on the shoulder and gave him a little shake. "You just gotta let them run their course, man. Overwhelming hostility is basically Sav's mating call. I give it three months, the arguments stop and we're complaining about having to listen to them fuck in the next room."

"Ambrose, you need to shut your goddamn mouth," I said angrily.

"Temper, temper, Savvy," he taunted.

"Yeah, and you've experienced first hand what happens when I go into a 'temper, temper,'" I reminded him. "And I'd rather not hand your ass to you before you have a title match."

"Bring it, Jordan, I'll try not to break your ribs again." He suddenly reached over and pulled me into a headlock, rubbing his fist against the top of my head. _A fucking noogie!? Seriously Dean?!_ "Come on, S, cheer up! Ain't every day you get a Divas Championship match."

"Dean, you ass!" I squealed, swatting at his arm. "You're totally wrecking my hair!"

"Sorry Sav, what was that?" he asked loudly, continuing to muss up my hair as violently as he could. "I swear I heard you say, 'Dean, my hair's too flat, can you give it more volume?'

" _Dean_!" I tried to sound threatening, but that completely backfired with how hard I was now laughing. "Seth, Roman, help! Get him off! Make him stop!"

"What the fuck is even happening right now," Seth muttered, raising an eyebrow.

"De-e-e-aan!" I whined again, struggling even harder, but my God, did he have a tight hold on me. "Please, I'm begging you, I'll do anything!"

"Hm, you know, the last time you said that to me, we were in a very different scenario, darlin'," Dean drawled. Cue chorus of manly, "Ooh"s from Seth and Roman.

That tore it. With a clichéd yell of, "Hiii-yah!" I twisted my leg up and kicked the back of Dean's knees, catching him right in the nerves. Yes, okay, so it worked in the sense that Dean let go as a jerk reaction, but what I didn't count on was the shock causing him to lose his balance so that when he fell, he took me down with him. We landed in a heap of tangled limbs and groans on the cold dressing room floor.

"Well that didn't quite go to plan," I spluttered out, shoving Dean off me and clambering to my feet. Turning to the mirror, I ignored the tumbleweed my hair now resembled and quickly straightened out my shiny new pay-per-view gear (a black bandage top embellished with a Hounds of Justice patch with a SWATesque leather harness over the top that covered my shoulders and clipped around my waist, black PVC shorts, black suspender tights, black gloves and of course, the new trusty combat boots). "Water please," I requested, holding my hand out to Roman, who was drinking from a bottle.

He rolled his eyes at me but handed it over with no argument. I tipped my head upside down and emptied the contents of the bottle over my hair, running it through with my fingertips. I'd grown to actually like the look of my hair in the boys' style, though it did fuck around with the glue of my hair extensions a little.

"I've got no idea what the fuck happened there, but we're never speaking of it ever again," Dean announced behind me.

That last comment really struck a chord with me, and I froze for a second. It was a perfectly innocent thing to say, but it hadn't been the first time that particular set of words had been exchanged between the Lunatic Fringe and I. And the last time they'd been said, it had been over something so serious that even now, over four years later, it still brought tears to my eyes to think of it.

I quickly dabbed at my eyes - being as careful as I could not to smudge my eye makeup - and sniffed before I turned back around, my hands planted firmly on my hips. "Agreed," I said coolly. "Okay, listen up, bitches. We've had our fun, made our jokes, but it's time to get fucking serious. We've got a lot of shit to prove tonight. There are still a lot of people out there who don't believe in The Shield. We know we're as good as we say we are, but they don't. So we fucking show them. We _make_ them believe."

"Damn fucking straight," Dean snarled, slamming his fist into the palm of his hand.

"We are the best talent that this company has to offer," I continued, determination dripping from every syllable out of my mouth. "Tonight is the night of The Shield. We walk out of this building as the United States, Tag Team and Divas Champions, or we don't fucking walk out at all."

"We own this yard!" Seth barked.

"Team Hell No? They don't believe. Kofi Kingston? He doesn't believe." I cracked my neck to the side, breathing heavily. "And Kaitlyn? She doesn't believe either. But they're going to. They _will_ believe."

"Believe in The Shield," Roman rumbled, holding his fist out. Seth, Dean and I all touched our fists against his.

"Believe in The Shield," we chorused.

* * *

Once the pay-per-view had kicked off, we just sort of milled around backstage watching the kick-off show, followed by the first match of the night. I don't know what pissed me off more about the Chris Jericho vs. Fandango feud; that it was still going on, or that it had provided the window of opportunity to bring Summer fucking Rae up to the main roster. It probably goes without saying, but Summer and I had _never_ gotten along in NXT. Call it a clash of personalities.

Dean's match was the first out of our three, and it was the second one of the night. We were waiting by the stairs entrance a few minutes before his cue, checking out another of the monitors recapping a few of the other feuds that would be culminating tonight. We couldn't help but smirk at the replay of my boys powerbombing the shit out of John Cena last Monday.

But then the monitor announced that, "This contest set for one fall is for the United States Championship!"

"Go get 'im, Deano," I said, slamming my fists against his chest as Kofi Kingston's music started playing out.

"First title coming home, baby," he said with a smirk, pronouncing it as 'bay-bay.'

"You got this, brother," said Roman, clapping him on the shoulder.

"Let's go win us a US Championship," Dean said confidently, squaring his shoulders. Seconds later, Kingston had finished his entrance, and our music was thumping throughout the arena. As we went out to the stairs, I could see Dean psyching himself up for going solo. We wanted to win our belts solely by ourselves. No numbers game, no intimidation mode, no interference. Just us, our opponents, and the ring. People were beginning to doubt us, to think we could only survive when the numbers were in our favor.

Tonight, we were gonna prove them wrong.

"And the challenger, representing The Shield, weighing two hundred and twenty-five pounds, _Dean Ambrose_!" Dean turned around on the stairs and bumped his fist against mine, then Seth's, and finally Roman's. We turned and began to head back up the stairs, as Dean went down to the ring.

"Dean Ambrose trying for single's gold, here tonight in St. Louis," Michael Cole was saying. "And...guys, check this out. Jordan, Rollins and Reigns have turned around, and they seem to be leaving the building. This is a first, I don't think we've ever seen The Shield-"

His voice got cut off as the doors closed behind the three of us and we continued walking down the hall. Phase One was complete: we'd definitely shocked everyone by splitting up.

"I've got such a good feeling about tonight," I declared once we were settled in the gorilla area, watching and waiting for Dean's crowning moment. We'd missed a few minutes of the match walking here, but Dean was still going strong. I hopped up and down a few times, jabbing at the air with my fists boxer-style.

"You're practically bouncing off the wall, Jordan, what gives?" Seth questioned, but he was smiling at me. In a few short weeks, Seth had become the big brother I'd never had and never realised I'd wanted. He was my best friend. Yeah, Dean and I were also closer than close, but our past together made it feel like there was still something missing from our relationship. Complete trust, probably, and a little resentment too.

But Seth and I had clicked from my very first day. We trained together even when Dean and Roman didn't want to. We shared a mutual enjoyment of Crossfit (though he was waaay more into it than me. The man was fucking obsessed). Like Roman and I, Seth was a gamer (another Xbox traitor) and had even completed both _Batman: Arkham_ games. If, for whatever reason, the four of us had to travel separately then it was me and Seth who stuck together. Fuck, now I even listened to his stupid music.

Basically, I loved the guy, in a completely platonic, brother/sister, family, if-I-loved-him-in-any-other-way-it-would-be-incest kinda way.

"It's Extreme Rules, Seth! This is the kind of pay-per-view I built my career on!" I reminded him. "And a No Holds Barred match against Kaitlyn for her championship is exactly what I need to get my momentum really going." Well. No Holds Barred was the official stipulation of the match, but it came with serious drawbacks.

Creative hadn't been too keen on the idea. Divas hadn't had an 'extreme' match for a few years, and they didn't overly want to bring it back any time soon. So I'd begged. I'd pleaded. I'd dragged Kaitlyn into the office and got her to beg with me, which she did (she and Natalya were probably the only two Divas I really got on with. How ironic, given that I was gonna be the one to take her her title from her) seeing as it would benefit her too, in the long shot.

Creative relented, but they slapped some of their own terms in place. The match would be advertised as No Holds Barred, but we could only use chairs and kendo sticks. No count outs or disqualifications still applied, and we could use the announcer's table to our content but no trying to drive each other through the barricades and no taking it up to the ramp and stage. It was ridiculous - as was the current state of women's wrestling in WWE in general, so there you go - but it was also the best we were gonna get, so we agreed.

"Does this mean we're gonna get to see a glimpse of the infamous 'Savannah Rose' you and Ambrose talk about?" he asked curiously.

I shrugged. "That's a...touchy subject, Seth." If you ignored the Tweet I'd sent out earlier. "I know I need to tap into that side of me to win, but I always get so scared that if I let her back out, she'll never go away."

"So what do you mean, you've got some kinda split personality?" That came from Roman, who still had his eyes trained on the monitor, watching Dean's every move. The match was pretty even, a constant back-and-forth.

"No," I said bluntly, rolling my eyes. "I mean that when I was in the Indies, I was an alcoholic, drug-addled slut with daddy issues and serious psychopathic tendencies. Forgive me for not wanting to let that side of me see the light of day again, especially now I just have minor psychopathic tendencies."

"I don't know, Savvy, 'minor' might be a slight understatement," joked Seth, which earned him a whack on the chest. "Ow!"

"Seth Rollins, you, my brother, are a douche," I said, sticking my tongue out at him.

"Sav, how could you accuse me of such a thing?" he said, mock-hurt, placing a hand over his heart.

"Very easily, ya douche-bag."

"Guys, guys, guys!" Roman suddenly exclaimed, pointing at the monitor. Seth and I turned our heads in time to see Dean planting Kingston with his finishing DDT, and JBL saying, "New champion. We're gonna have us a new champion." as he went for the pin.

One!

Two!

Three!

"Oh my God, he's done it! Dean's done it! He's the US Champ!" I squealed, totally abandoning mine and Seth's conversation as the three of us sprinted out towards the ring.

Dean didn't see us coming; he'd just been handed the belt and was busy thrusting it in the air in triumph when Seth collided with him, wrapping him up in a man-hug. The second Seth released him, Roman had his arms around the man's waist and lifted him clean off the ground, shaking him like a ragdoll as I skipped around them, making incoherent yelling noises of excitement.

"This may not be a good omen for Team Hell No and Kaitlyn later on tonight," mused Jerry Lawler, so naturally I had to get cocky as fuck and blow a mocking kiss at him, throwing in a wink for good measure before the four of us in the ring embroiled in a massive group hug.

"I'm so proud of you!" I shrieked, throwing my arms around Dean's neck and squeezing tightly.

"Easy Rosie, I can't fuckin' breath!" he muttered back, ruffling my hair. He took a few steps forward and thrust the belt up in the air, Roman, Seth and I all yelling smack at the crowd for ever doubting The Shield.

 _One down_ , I thought smugly as Seth and Roman lifted Dean onto their shoulders. _Three to go._

* * *

"This isn't quite how I thought it would go," I said, rubbing my chin in worry as Dean and I stared at the TV screen, watching as Daniel Bryan wrestled Roman into the No! Lock while Kane stalked around the ropes to keep a recently floored Seth from getting back into the ring.

"Nah, they've got this," Dean assured, though even he looked a little concerned at hearing the screams of pain coming from Roman's mouth.

"Oh thank God!" I cried out in relief as Seth managed to slam Kane's neck into the ropes to disorient him long enough to allow Seth to climb to the top rope and deliver a flying fist to the top of Bryan's head, breaking the lock. "Or not," I then muttered when Seth turned around right into a chokeslam. This match was way too 50/50 for my liking; Team Hell No were really giving it to the boys.

"Fuck yeah, Roman!" yelled Dean when Roman then hit Kane with a devastating spear. "For fuck sake, Seth, get back in the goddamn ring!" All four men were down now, Seth going as far to roll straight out of the ring.

" _Nah, they've got this_ ," I mimicked, deepening my voice in a really bad impression of Dean.

"Shut up, Sav," he muttered, giving me a shove.

"Dickhead!" I shoved him back. "We need to fucking focus! Jesus! ...Oh shit, Roman looks hurt."

"Which is why Seth needs to get back in the fucking ring!"

"I know that, Dean, stop yelling at me!"

"You damn well better have been this invested in my match."

I patted him condescendingly on the arm. "Of course I was, boo-boo, why would I ever have my attention elsewhere."

"YOU TRY TO BREAK MY ARM?! I'MMA BREAK YOUR FACE!" abruptly boomed out of the TV, causing Dean and I to jump, and we turned back to the screen in time to see Roman pound Bryan in the face with his fist.

"I feel like we missed something," I said with a frown. "Oh, fuck off, Kane!" I then exclaimed in frustration when the Big Red Machine hauled Roman around and bitch-slapped him. Only I could get away with doing that!

"Ha, idiots," snorted Dean when Roman turned things around and shoved Kane into Bryan, who in turn fell back into the turnbuckles.

"Come on, Seth, get back in this!" I muttered anxiously, picking at my red nail polish. "Shit, did Roman just dick-kick Kane?"

"Son of a bitch!" Dean shouted as Kane suddenly started setting Roman up for a chokeslam.

"They've gotta turn this around!" I said desperately. "They've gotta!" And the next thing I knew, Seth's knee had connected with Kane's head, creating some much needed separation. "Shit, they could actually turn this around!"

" _Shut up,_ Sav!" Dean said again, sounding just as riled as I felt. "Come on, bro..." he mumbled, just as Roman slammed Kane with spear number two, but Bryan _still_ managed to break up the pin. We kept quiet at that point, scared to look away from the screen in case we missed anything. This was so close now, it could literally be anyone's match. I was just praying it was ours.

Daniel nailed Roman with a series of shoot kicks, but Roman managed to dodge the final one and attempt to roll Bryan up for the pin.

Bryan managed to roll out of the way, and started to attempt a second No! Lock on Roman.

Roman countered, slingshotting Bryan into the corner of the ring and into a high kick from Seth.

By this point, I was so on edge that I had my arms wrapped around Dean's arm and was digging my nails into his skin. Roman's spear had totally flattened Kane, and he was nowhere to be seen, lying outside the ring. If the boys managed to do enough damage to Bryan, it would be over. They'd win.

Roman scooped Daniel up onto his shoulders. Seth climbed to the very top turnbuckle. He leaped about two foot up from the turnbuckle and launched himself forward, catching Bryan on the head with his knee and sending him crashing down to the mat. Roman dropped on top of him and scooped up the goat's leg as Seth kept his eye out for Kane.

One!

Two!

Three!

"YESSSSSSSSS!" I shrieked, and for the second time tonight, I was running out of the gorilla and down the ramp, this time with Dean hot on my heels. We were in the ring as the boys were handed their belts and raising them in victory. Dean threw himself at Seth and had his arms around his waist, and I jumped on Roman's back, locking my arms around his neck and legs around his waist.

"You did it!" I kept screaming, tears actually beginning to form in my eyes. They'd done it. All of my brothers had won gold.

"This may turn out to be a black day for the WWE," said Lawler as I climbed off Roman and allowed Dean to hug him, so I turned my attention to Seth and pulled him into a hug that was really more of a stranglehold.

"Almost all members of The Shield now have gold," said Cole. "There's Ambrose, the new United States Champion."

"Do you believe in The Shield?" asked JBL

"Rollins and Reigns, Tag Team Champions," continued Cole. "And judging on what we've seen so far tonight, we could be looking at a new Divas Champion as well."

 _You're damn right you will be_ , I thought as the boys held their belts high and I held up my fist. Because now it was my time. I had one match to prepare myself, and then I was back out here, ready to seal my legacy in the WWE.

* * *

"I can honestly say that I didn't expect my first pay-per-view match would be for a championship," I said musingly as I waited with the boys by the stair doors, getting ready for my cue.

"Ours was a TLC match, and that shit was painful," Seth told me.

"Is that the one where you fell off that ladder through like two tables?" I asked, and Seth nodded. "Fuck, am I glad I wasn't around for that. I honestly think the worry would have killed me."

"Aw, Savvy, you'd worry about me?" he teased. "I'm touched."

"You're being smug again, Seth," I said. "I don't give a damn if you just won, I'll still break your kneecaps."

"I don't think you're gonna have a lot of time for that," he replied, gesturing at a screen. "Because you're about to be very busy winning a championship."

Sure enough, Justin Roberts' voice then came out of the TV, announcing, "The following match is No Holds Barred, and it is for the Divas Championship!"

 _Oh, oh, keep reachin',  
_ _Yeah,  
_ _When you look into your heart,  
_ _And ask yourself what's true.  
_ _You know there is nothin' in this world,  
_ _That you can't do.  
_ _Now I'm looking at world each day with different eyes,  
_ _Then I keep reachin' higher, gonna touch the sky._

"I am _so_ ready for this," I said determinedly, clenching my fists.

"Go make us proud, little sister," Seth said warmly, wrapping his arms around me.

"You know it, big brother," I replied, returning his hug fiercely. "You're about to be looking at your new Divas Champion."

"Own it, Sav," said Dean once I pulled away from Seth. "It's Extreme Rules, this is your town." He bumped his fist against mine.

"It's actually No Holds Barred, Deano, and if you even knew about the damn argument I had to put up against Creative to even get the stipulation approved in the first place..." I gritted my teeth, still a little pissed at how unwilling they'd been to let mere _Divas_ have an actual hardcore match in this day and age. "It wasn't fun. But I think I'm about to have a _lot_ of fun."

"That's ominous," commented Roman.

"...Sav, why do you have that crazy grin on your face?" asked Seth, sounding a little concerned.

"Oh Sethie, Roman...prepare to meet Savannah Rose," I giggled, just as my music kicked in the other side of the doors. I took one final deep breath and shoved the doors open, emerging on the top level of seats, fans shouting all around me.

 _I feel the pressure is building in me,  
My stomach's sick, it's getting harder to breathe.  
I hear the screaming, I feel the disease,  
There's blood in the air, and there is death in the breeze!_

"And introducing the challenger, representing The Shield, from Dallas, Texas: _Savannah Jordan_!" You know, I'd never made my way down these stairs by myself before, and honestly, I did feel a little vulnerable with all the fans grabbing and patting at me. I was half-expecting one of them to accidentally push me down the steps.

"I cannot believe what we may witness tonight," Cole was saying as I reached the barricade. "This is the first extreme Divas match we've had in years, the last being the tables match between LayCool and Natalya and Beth Phoenix back in 2010."

"And for those of you who aren't familiar with Savannah's background," chipped in JBL. "She came to WWE from a company in Philadelphia known as Combat Zone Wrestling, which specialized in all forms of hardcore wrestling. This is her playground."

"You have to wonder of the state of mind Kaitlyn must be in right now," said Lawler. "After seeing all of Savannah's stablemates picking up victories tonight, she has to wonder if she's going to be the next victim of The Shield's reign of dominance."

Climbing up to the apron, I took hold of the top rope in my hands and leaped over, which I followed up with by climbing up to stand on the middle ropes of the corner and let out my loud scream, followed by a screech of, "Let me hear your war cry!" which some people in the audience did back at me. I was steadily getting more over with the crowds. I hadn't been one to overly care about whether or not people cared about me in NXT, but recently...I had. I blamed the boys. They were thawing out my cold, dead heart.

I jumped down from the ropes but remained in my corner, facing Kaitlyn and leaning forward slightly whilst still holding onto the ropes. The ref held the Divas belt up in the air before he handed it to a stagehand and called for the bell.

 _Ding, ding, ding_.

Kaitlyn and I locked up to start. She was easily the strongest Diva on the roster at the moment, so if I found a way to overpower her quickly, I'd immediately gain the upper hand. So, shoving with all my might, I backed her right up to the ropes before pulling back my arm and ramming her with a clothesline, sending her flying over the top rope and down to the ground.

I backed up so that I was in the middle of the ring, waiting for just...the right...second... _got her_. The second Kaitlyn staggered to her feet, I took a run up to the ropes and dived through the middle and top ones. I collided with Kaitlyn and we both fell backwards violently, my face meeting the barricade.

Blood. Spurted. Everywhere. And I mean, everywhere. My face felt like it was on fire, I was in so much pain. This match could not have started much worse if it had tried. Kaitlyn was groaning beside me, so I took the opportunity to place my hand over my nose. I probed it for a split second when I realised it was jointed way more to the left than usual; it was broken. Welp, so much for no barricade business.

"Oh s _hit_ ," I cursed under my breath so no mics picked it up. This was the fourth time I'd broken my nose in a match in my career, and I was perfectly capable of resetting it myself, but I just didn't have time. Not now. If it ended up setting in this position, I'd just have to re-break it backstage and set it straight.

 _Back to the match_ , I thought, scrambling forward on my hands and knees and thrusting up the apron curtain, groping around under the ring for a weapon. My hands soon closed around a kendo stick.

Staggering back to my feet, I turned back in Kaitlyn's direction, poised to attack, when I turned straight into a kick to the gut. The surprise caused me to drop the kendo stick, and Kaitlyn's hands fisted in my hair and in the waistband of my shorts as she threw me back into the ring.

"What an epic match-up this is already turning out to be!" exclaimed Lawler as Kaitlyn climbed in after me, the kendo stick in her hands, proceeding to strike me across the back several times. I cried out, spitting blood out of my mouth and starting to crawl forward, my nose leaving a very attractive dripping stream of scarlet behind me. Kaitlyn seized hold of my ankle and began to drag be back, so I twisted my body around and jerked up my other leg, catching her in the knee.

Falling to one knee, she abruptly dropped my leg and I took the opportunity to lurch to my feet, quickly running forward to whack her in the chest with a low dropkick. This provided me with some much-needed separation. I took a few deep breaths and impatiently wiped the drying blood off my face, brushing my hair out of my eyes and accidentally smearing some blood on the top of my head. Jesus fucking Christ, I must have looked like I was wearing war paint.

I grabbed the abandoned kendo stick and, with a guttural cry, began to pelt Kaitlyn along her back relentlessly, never giving her a chance to do anything other than roll around in agony. It was sick, but with every blow, I could feel myself getting a thrill from it. I was remembering who I was, where I came from...who I used to be.

"Come on, Katie!" I taunted, delivering a final hit that splintered the stick in half, which I tossed to the side. "Gotta defend that belt! God knows, you don't want someone like me getting it!"

"What the hell is wrong with you, Savannah?" she gasped out, skittering back from me.

"Quite a few things," I replied with a cheeky grin, before backhanding her across the face, grabbing her by the hair and hooking her throat-first on the middle rope, pressing my knees between her shoulder blades and choking her.

"Now, of course, this is No Holds Barred, which means there are no disqualifications," Cole reminded the audience as Kaitlyn managed to free herself and the two of us began trading blows.

"Savannah certainly has bided her time for this match since she won the Number One Contender battle royal back in April in London," added JBL. "During only her second week here, I might add."

"She's certainly catapulted herself into Superstardom since her arrival on the scene at WrestleMania," said Lawler. "And as a part of The Shield, she truly has been unstoppable, running over every single Diva who tries to get in her way and winning every match since her debut."

"Oh hell!" I spluttered, as we rolled out of the ring and landed with a thud. Quickly shoving Kaitlyn away from me, I was back under the ring and pulled out Ye Olde Faithful: a steel chair. I tossed it over the top rope and grabbed hold of Kaitlyn, all set to shove her back into when she suddenly countered me, spinning me around and driving me face-first into the ring post. I turned my head in time to avoid doing anymore damage to my already broken nose - the pain still thudding away nicely - but no doubt I now had a pretty dismal-looking bruise forming. Sweet.

Vaguely dazed, I ducked as Kaitlyn tried to grab hold of me again, moving behind her and shoving her into the post too, chest-first. Taking advantage of her winded state, I quickly grabbed her arm and whipped her back into the apron, just to weaken her chest a little more, before pushing her under the ropes and back into the ring.

I climbed up the ropes and positioned myself on the top turnbuckle, checked that Kaitlyn hadn't moved from where I left her and jumped, flipping myself backwards as I executed a moonsault. I landed directly on top of her and quickly pulled her leg up, going for the pin.

One!

Two!

Th-

Kaitlyn got her shoulder up just before the ref could hit the three, and I let out a scream of frustration, punching the mat. Come _on_ , how was she not down after that?! But, while she may have got the shoulder up, she was, for all intents and purposes, still down. Looked like she would be for a little while, too. I decided I would use this time to really finish the match, and to go out with a bang too.

I grabbed hold of the steel chair I'd thrown into the ring earlier and rained blows down on Kaitlyn for a few seconds, just to make sure she was really incapacitated. I then moved to the corner of the ring and set the chair up, kicking the legs out and placing it in the prime position for where Kaitlyn's head would land when I hit the Southern Belle.

Patting the seat of the chair once I'd stood it up, I turned...only to get hit by a spear. Kaitlyn knocked me straight back into the chair, the metal buckling under my weight and collapsing. Pain exploded up my back, combined with the pain I was still feeling in my nose, and I could practically see stars, it hurt so much. I hadn't been in a hardcore match for so long, clearly my body and pain threshold had become significantly weaker since I left CZW in 2011.

Kaitlyn dragged me out of the wreckage of the chair and, using what must have been the last ounces of her strength, collapsed on top of me and hooked my leg.

One!

Two!

Three!

I got my shoulder up, but it was too late. The ref had already hit the mat. I'd lost. I'd lost my first singles match since NXT. I'd lost it at my first pay-per-view. I'd lost my first title opportunity on the same night the boys had pulled through all the odds.

The ref pulled Kaitlyn up, raising her hand and handing her the Divas belt as Justin announced, "Your winner, and _still_ the Divas Champion, Kaitlyn!"

I weakly crawled into a kneeling position and stared blankly up the ramp, watching as Seth, Dean and Roman came walking down it, all of them looking...completely shocked. They must have been waiting in the gorilla again, so they could have come running out to congratulate me when I won...when I was supposed to win. Kaitlyn exited the ring and began to walk back up the ramp, brushing past the boys as she did so.

I was still sitting in the middle of the ring, still in shock, still in pain. My nose...I cupped my hands around it, and realised that it had set in its broken position. Gritting my teeth, I pinched it hard and snapped it back into place, too numb to truly register the new pain and the fresh blood that began to pour out.

The boys all rolled into the ring, all of them wearing their new belts. Seth looked down at me and held out his hand. I took hold of it in my own and allowed him to help me to my feet. As soon as I was up, he wrapped his arms around me and pulled me close, letting me lie my head on his chest.

"How's your nose?" he asked quietly, resting his cheek on top of my head.

"I'll be okay," I croaked out. At least I could pretend my nose was the reason tears were flooding down my cheeks.

* * *

 **A/N- Sorry about the big gap between chapters, but y'know, life and shit happened. But I really hope you enjoyed the chapter, please let me know! I'd really appreciate the feedback, and maybe something a little more constructive than 'please update soon!' I adore every single review I get, but I'd love to know all your thoughts! Xx Gee xX**


	8. Ohana Means Family

**A/N- Thank you, Lynn021, YinandYang1234, Shield316 and grrlygrrl for your reviews!**

* * *

 **Chapter Eight - Ohana Means Family**

 _ **SavvyAsHellWWE: Sorry to disappoint everyone, but I won't be at Raw or SmackDown this week. Broken noses and concussions suck. Cheer my boys on for me!  
**_ _ **Tweeted 20/05/13 14:52PM**_

* * *

" _ **Oh! A devastating hurricanrana on the apron there from Savannah Rose! Planting Moxley straight out of the ring!"**_

" _Aww, come on Mox, don't cry! You used to love it when I had my legs around your neck!"_

" _Don't fucking flatter yourself, Rosie, I've had way better!"_

" _ **Damn, there is some serious trash-talking coming from both competitors. You know, Jake, I don't think we've ever had an ex-on-ex feud in CZW history, do you?"**_

" _ **No, Dan, this is definitely the first I've heard. And with an ex like Savannah, I'm amazed Moxley still has his balls in tact."**_

" _ **Rose is a complete psychopath, so I'm in shock on that aspect too. Ever since she and Moxley broke up - for what, is this now the sixth time? - she's been on a complete path of destruction. Word is that Lacey wasn't discharged from hospital for over twenty-four hours after her match with Savannah last week."**_

" _ **She shouldn't have been flirting with who Rose considers her man, should she? Rose put her claws into Moxley on her first day here, she won't let go any time soon."**_

" _ **That was almost a year ago, though, and she's constantly saying that she and Mox are just, er, friends with benefits. Do you ever wonder if she's becoming a bit Alex Forrest?"**_

" _ **Do I wonder? I-"**_

" _ARGH! HOLY SHIT! YOU MOTHERFUCKER!"_

" _ **Oh my God! Rose is gonna be picking glass out of her chest for weeks after that! What a cutter from Mox, sending Savannah straight into the tube light!"**_

" _Come on, Rosie-Posie! Don't go passing out on me, bitch, our little game isn't over yet!"_

" _Fuck you, Jon!"_

" _No, no, we've already played that game, Rosie. Quite a few time too. It's getting a little boring."_

" _You weren't saying that the last time, you egotistical fuckhead!"_

" _ **Oh man, I have a feeling that this match is about to break down."**_

" _ **He just smashed his ex-girlfriend face-first into glass and you think the match is only**_ _ **now**_ _ **gonna break down?"**_

" _ **I'm just trying to be positive, given that Rose looks murderous right now."**_

" _ **Yeah, and I think Mox is about to**_ _ **get**_ _ **murdered."**_

" _ **Er, I don't want to alarm anyone but Rose has found the thumbtacks."**_

" _ **Something tells me a lot more blood is about to get spilled."**_

" _Aw, Mox, come back! I won't hurt you…that much! Come on, what ya runnin' away for?"_

" _I don't need to put up with your shit, Rosie! I'm the goddamn world champion, and you're NOTHING compared to me!"_

" _Heard it all before, darling, you really don't faze me. Get your whiny little ass back in this ring. Or is this just because you know I'm gonna pin you and embarrass you in front of everyone?"_

" _Rosie, you haven't pinned me in weeks. Get the fuck down from there, you're just making a fool of yourself!"_

" _You want me to get down, Jon? Why didn't you just ask?"_

" **HOLY - oh, Jesus Christ! A diving DDT from the top turnbuckle! She caught Moxley's head on the apron! Oh hell! This has…this has gotta be over."**

" _I hate that it had to come to this, Jon. I really do. Now get the fuck back in the ring…or I can just shove you back in, that's fine too."_

 _"You're...you're not gonna win this, Rosie..."_

 _"Oh honey. I already have."_

 _ **"Oh man, Savannah is just looking to humiliate Moxley now. She's going for the Texas Chainsaw."**_

 _ **"There's no need for that. Mox is out of it, anyone can see that. She could just pin him and let it be over. She doesn't need to make him tap to top it off."**_

 _ **"Either way, she's got that Chainsaw locked in tight."**_

 _"Mox, just give up, for God's sake. There's no need to fight it anymore."_

 _"Arrgghh! This doesn't mean you've beaten me, darlin'! Just remember that!"_

 _ **"And Moxley taps. I've gotta say, I'm pretty surprised by the turnout of this match."**_

 _ **"Here is your winner by submission, Savannah Rose!"**_

 _ **"Well you know what they say, Dan. Hell hath no fury like a psycho ex-girlfriend scorned."**_

With an angry sigh, I closed the YouTube page and snapped my laptop shut, rolling over and hugging my pillow tightly. It was exactly 7.38pm in Winter Park, Florida, and I was in bed. Sulking. And in pain.

As soon as I'd gotten backstage after last night's match, I'd been checked over by a doctor due to my broken nose. After the routine check-up we were all given when anyone took a serious smack to the head, not only was my nose confirmed as broken (though I had managed to set it right myself) but I was also diagnosed with a minor concussion and immediately pulled from any matches for the next three weeks.

So here I was, having landed back in Florida a little after four in the morning, with my nose covered in gauze, doped up on painkillers, simmering in anger and humiliation. I was still furious with myself for fucking up so substantially last night. All the boys were going out on Raw tonight with their belts to tell everyone that this was exactly why they should have believed in The Shield all along, and I didn't have a belt. I wasn't a champion. I wasn't even there.

They hadn't said a whole lot when they'd seen me off at the airport last night, just that they'd tape SmackDown tomorrow then fly to Florida that night so they could look after me, and also take a look at the new Performance Centre WWE was having built before it opened officially in July. Honestly, I really did appreciate the fact they were gonna stay with me. I may not have been medically cleared to wrestle again for at least three weeks, but I planned on managing my boys whatever.

Still, that didn't mean I wasn't gonna be one grumpy motherfucker this week. I could act like a petulant teenager at the best of times, and as far as I was concerned, simultaneously missing out on the Divas Championship, getting a concussion and breaking my nose made my mood more than justifiable. My phone suddenly vibrated with a text, and without moving from my position of snugness, I swung my arm out and groped around on the bedside table until I came into contact with the iPhone.

 _ **-One New Message-  
Seth Rollins**_

 **Hey Sav, the show's about to start but I just want to check that you're okay. We're catching an 11pm flight tomorrow so we should be in Orlando by 2am and at your place by like 2.30. Dean wants a welcoming committee. Chin up, kiddo, see you soon. X**

 _Dean can get fucked. I'm now about to switch on the TV, so do me proud out there, champ. My nose still stings and I've still got a migraine. Hopefully it passes before you guys get here. I'll wait up for you and have the guest beds ready so you can crash. X_

Well. I said guest beds. I was neglecting to mention that I had one spare bedroom, which contained a single bed. This meant that one of the boys would have to sleep out on the couch, and the other...well, the carpet in the living room looked comfortable. If he - whoever it ended up being - decided to complain, then he could sleep on the lounger on the damn balcony.

 _Buzz buzz_

 **Sounds like a plan. Stop beating yourself up over this, because I know you are. You did awesome last night and I'm so proud of you, baby sis. We all are. X**

I started to cry. I won't even try to hide that fact. The second I finished reading that text, I burst into tears. I didn't know if I was PMSing, overtired or just emotional, but Seth's words really wormed their way into my heart. Now I wasn't just angry at myself, but I was even more disappointed in myself than before. Seth said they were proud of me, but how could they be? I'd ruined everything for us. Wow, wasn't I a delight in this mood?

 _Thanks, Seth. I appreciate it, considering there's precisely fuck all to be proud of me for. Now stop texting me and focus on showing Kingston and Hell No exactly why you three are the new US and Tag Team champs! Love you guys. Xxxxx_

A near-instant reply. **Yes ma'am. We're going. See you tomorrow night. I'll speak for Dean and Ro and say that we love you too. X**

I placed my phone down on the covers next to me, wiped my eyes and reached for the remote for my bedroom TV. A few button presses later, and the Raw theme song was playing out. Phew, just in time. I might have bailed on them in reality, but I could support my boys in spirit.

For the better part of forty-five minutes, I wasn't paying all that much attention, I can admit. Blah blah blah, Ryback promo, blah blah blah, pointless tag match, blah blah blah, more matches I don't care about, blah blah, Paul Heyman introducing his new 'Paul Heyman Guy' Curtis Axel, blah, Triple H interrupting said introduction, blah blah blah, another match I didn't care about, blah blah, Kaitlyn vs. AJ Lee.

After I'd been carted off for medical attention last night at Extreme Rules, the two of them had embroiled in a...rather loud altercation backstage after Kaitlyn called AJ 'Looney Tunes' several times, leading to tonight's match up. I was severely pissed off when AJ managed to get Kaitlyn to tap to the Black Widow after about two minutes. Some ringside idiot handed her a mic and she happily declared herself the new number one contender to Kaitlyn's title, which Kaitlyn accepted without argument.

By the time I returned to my bedroom after mopping up the can of Coke I'd hurled across the room in my anger, Cody Rhodes and Zack Ryder were going at it. I couldn't have cared less about this match, so I logged into my Tumblr and started reblogging anything I found halfway amusing, just to pass the time. I hadn't even realised the match had ended until...

 _Sierra. Hotel. India. Echo. Lima. Delta. Shield._

I jumped at the guitar riffs hitting, dropping my phone hastily and sitting bolt upright in bed. Despite my less-than-joyful mood, my heart still swelled with pride at seeing all three of them walking down the stairs with their belts; they really did deserve them. I wasn't paying attention to whatever it was that JBL, Cole and Lawler were bleating on about. I was paying too much attention to how good Seth, Dean and Roman looked with their gold.

Seeing them all in the ring, I'd assumed that the match was going to start once Kingston and Hell No arrived, but nope. Dean had grabbed a mic, as had Seth and Roman. It was time for a classic Shield promo.

"Rollins."

"Reigns."

"And they are, the WWE Tag Team Champions," drawled Dean. "I'm Dean Ambrose and I am the United States Champion. Last night at Extreme Rules, The Shield brought power back to these titles. See, as a wise young lady told us last night, Kofi Kingston and Team Hell No, they didn't believe. But they do now. You know who else didn't believe? The Rock. And _we_ are the reason The Rock lost the WWE title at WrestleMania. We broke him down so bad, he had to go get surgery. The Undertaker, didn't believe. And now, the Deadman's resting in peace. You'll never see him again."

I really didn't know if it was a good idea for Dean to start calling out legends willy-nilly like this, but hey. Whatever floated his boat.

"The 'monster' Ryback," he continued. "What we did to the monster Ryback broke him down so bad. We made him feel so helpless, so alone, so betrayed that he snapped! He went after John Cena. And the real reason John Cena got carted off in an ambulance last night, well that...that's The Shield. The Shield did that." Man, I still wished I'd got called up the same time the boys were destroying Ryback the way that they had in late 2012. Dean still wasn't done. "All non-believers, all your heroes that you blindly worship, one by one, they all go down by the swift arm of justice."

There was a pause for the crowd to cheer and boo as they saw fit. Then it was Seth's turn. "You know, I've heard it said that justice is blind. But after what we did last night, ha, justice can see just fine. And all of _you_ can now see, you can see what a cohesive unit looks like! You can see the meaning of unbreakable right before you! ...You can see the future." He turned to look at Dean and Roman. "You know what the scary part is, boys? This is just the beginning."

Roman raised his own mic. "The ending, that stays the same. You put 'em in front of us, and we take 'em out! The Hounds of Justice run. This. Yard. And we carry the collars to back it up!"

All three of them raised their title belts, and in spite of myself, my stomach twisted in jealousy. I should have been up there too, Divas Championship raised high above my head.

"And yes, maybe last night, one of us couldn't quite reach what she was aiming for. Savannah Jordan put up a damn good fight for that Divas belt, but in the end, her injuries got too much for her to concentrate properly," Seth said, and my eyes welled up with fresh tears. He was still thinking about me. "She slipped up. But that doesn't matter. Because she's still a Hound of Justice, and as far as we're concerned, if one of us is champion, we're all champions. Do not underestimate our sister, because she'll be back, and she'll be making history just like we will."

"Savannah Jordan will be the Divas Champion, have no doubt about it," Dean agreed. "She doesn't care who she goes through to get it, either. Now, I'm not threatening you ladies backstage, but you should know that all your numbers are up."

"You can believe that, and believe in her," added Roman.

I pressed my hands over my mouth to stem the choked up sobs wracking my body. They believed in me. They all still believed in me.

"The fire of justice is burnin' bright and _we_ are the flames!" yelled Dean. "Believe in The Shield!" The three of them started to yell various lines of trash-talk involving the word 'believe' around as the audience around them cheered. Then fire exploded at the top of the ramp.

Team Hell No had arrived

Naturally I watched the entire match without taking my eyes off the screen. It wasn't enough that the boys had won last night; they needed to prove that they deserved their gold. And my God, did they deliver. The match showcased a good amount of talent from both sides (because I will never be accused of bias) but in the end, The Shield was just too good for Kane, Bryan and Kingston. A final spear from Roman to Kane, at it was all over.

As the three of them raised their belts, it was a sight I didn't think I'd ever tire of seeing.

* * *

I'd love to be able to tell you that I spent the entirety of Tuesday cleaning up the mess my apartment had become since Sunday night and making it look presentable for fellow human company. However, that would mean I was lying. Believe me, I'd had all the intentions of cleaning up yesterday's stack of three pizza boxes, three empty tubs of Ben and Jerry's, five empty scrunched up share-sized bags of Doritos, four bottles of Diet Mountain Dew and the drained dry bottle of Jack Daniels. Honestly, I had.

However, when I woke up at 11.37 on Tuesday morning, I was in an even fouler mood than I had been the day before. So instead of doing anything even remotely practical, I spent all day curled up on the couch in the same _Supernatural_ sweatpants, black tank top and old CZW hoodie I'd been wearing since I'd arrived in Florida. On the plus side, I managed to plough my way through the whole first season of _The Big Bang Theory_ in an attempt to cheer myself up.

By the time 2AM rolled around, I was fighting to stay awake. I had _Lilo and Stitch 2_ humming away on the TV in front of me – if it wasn't obvious, the little blue guy was my favourite Disney creation of all time – but I was barely concentrating. The images kept blurring together. I could feel myself nodding off, as my head kept drooping and my eyes kept fluttering shut.

 _Must. Stay. Awake_ , I kept telling myself. I even slapped myself in the face a few times. Nothing was working. I was steadily falling asleep on the couch. No, I couldn't! If I fell asleep now, then I wouldn't hear my buzzer go when the boys arrived and they'd be locked outside all night. Though actually, that could be pretty funny...

My buzzer genuinely sounding off jolted me out of my near-asleep haze. Stifling a yawn, I wedged my feet in my Harley Quinn slippers, wrapped my couch blanket (IE, the Dallas Cowboys blanket I had lying over the back of the couch for lazy days) around my shoulders and trudged over to my front door.

"What?" I grumbled once I'd pressed my intercom.

"Great to hear your voice too, Rosie," Dean said cheerfully. "You mind letting us in? It ain't exactly warm for Florida out here!"

"That's because it's like sixty degrees at night, asshole," I muttered, hitting the button that opened the lobby door. "Get your asses up here so I can actually go to bed. I'm exhausted and delusional because of you three."

"Duly noted," he replied, and the intercom crackled off. Two minutes later, there was a series of knocks on my door that sounded like the Hulk was trying to smash his way through the wood. Ah, men. Never ones to worry about other people sleeping.

"Will you shut the fuck up?!" I hissed through gritted teeth as they wandered into the room, dragging their trolley cases behind them. "I have neighbours, you great oafs!"

"You're looking...relaxed," Seth said tentatively, running his eyes over my unbrushed and unwashed hair, makeup-less face and homeless-esque attire.

"Thanks," I mumbled.

Dean was a little less sensitive. "Jesus Christ, Sav, have you been fucking robbed?" he asked as he dumped his backpack on the couch, looking around the living room/kitchen combination and taking in the mountains of trash lying about. "Or was there just a really small indoor tornado?"

"Fuck off, Ambrose, I am so not in the mood for this," I snapped, locking the door and leaning against it with my arms crossed.

"How's your nose?" Seth attempted to change the subject, coming over to me and wrapping an arm around my shoulders.

"Painful, bruised and snotty."

"You're being welcoming as usual, Sav," remarked Roman.

"Roman, please don't," I said tiredly, closing my eyes. "I'm psyched you guys are here, honestly, I am. But it's almost three in the morning, I've had a shit couple of days, I'm exhausted, I'm not the Divas Champion and you guys made me cry with your dedication to me on Raw! So please, please, _please_ , can we all just go to bed and talk for real in the morning?!"

"I swear you were wearing that hoodie when we Skyped you Monday morning."

"DEAN."

"I think you're right, Savvy," Seth quickly said. "It's been a long day, I think we could all do with some sleep. Where do you want us?"

I rubbed at my eyes, trying to remember the sleeping arrangements I'd decided. "Er...oh yeah, right. So, I figured that Roman, since you're the biggest, you'd take my spare room."

"Are you calling me fat, Little Red?" he quipped, quirking a brow.

"Actually, Tall Samoan, I'm calling you huge," I shot back. "If anything, you should feel complimented. Now-" I turned between Seth and Dean. "Here's the issue. I don't have two spare rooms. You two are gonna have to duke it out over who gets the couch and who's taking the floor."

"Don't worry, darlin', I'll settle this before we need to," Dean said smartly, grabbing both his bags and starting to walk in the direction of my bedroom. "Sethie, you can have the couch. I'll crash in Rosie's room."

"Dean, what the fuck!?" I yelped, sprinting after him and quickly blocking the doorway. "No-no-no-no-no-no-no! NO. Not happening!"

"Grow up, Sav," he said with a roll of his eyes. "We shared a bed for over a year, it's nothing new. I'm not sleeping on the fucking floor." And with that, he quite forcefully pushed his way past me, dumping his luggage at the end of my bed and stripping back the covers. "Nice sleepwear," he smirked, picking up the purple Agent Provocateur babydoll nightie I'd worn last night.

"Fuck off," I snarled, storming into the room and snatching the offending item out of his hand. I had a feeling I was reeaallly gonna regret asking them to stay for the rest of the week.

* * *

I woke up Wednesday morning with the overwhelming feeling that I was suffocating. Once my eyes snapped open in panic, I realised it was just that in his sleep, Dean had flung his hand over my face and was resting it over my nose and mouth. Carefully shifting myself over so I wouldn't wake him, I rolled out of bed and stretched, looking at my alarm clock.

9.16. Perfect. I could leave the boys to sleep in, slip off to the Performance Center gym for a couple of hours and come back and cook up some lunch. Fuckin' A. Creeping around so I wouldn't wake Dean (seeing him asleep in my bed was bringing back a lot of memories. It was freaking me out a little), I pulled open my dresser and grabbed a pair of lilac leggings, a sports bra and black tank top that read _I Hit The Gym So I Won't Hit You_. I also grabbed some jeans, a t-shirt and a pair of Converse which I quickly (and quietly) zipped into my Pink backpack to change into when I was done with gym-ing, and I also selected a pair of black and white Nikes from under my bed.

Taking one last look back to double check that I hadn't woken Dean – which of course I hadn't, the man was dead to the world – and I slipped silently out of the room, clicking the door shut behind me. My apartment was almost silent. The only sounds were coming from the clock on the wall ticking away, Seth snoring like a buzz saw on the couch and Roman's snores floating out of the half-open spare room door. Along with the sunlight streaming through the drapes, the scene was weirdly…idyllic to me. I was half-expecting that cheesy classical song movies used when a character woke up to start playing.

I made my way through to the bathroom, taking care as I creeped across the living room to make sure I didn't trip over anything, knock anything over or just generally make a fuck-load of noise and wake up all three Sleeping Beauties. That would have been a disaster. Of course, my first priority once I was safely in the bathroom was to change the fucking dressing on my nose.

Hissing in pain, I peeled off the gauze and medical tape. Oh Christ, that looked worse than it did when I initially had the dressing put on Sunday night. My nose was practically black from the bruising. I looked like a freaking panda. At least my nose was straight though, so that was something. I gingerly applied the antiseptic cream I'd been given, then set to reapplying a new layer of gauze, followed by an adhesive bandage, then finally a few strips of medical tape. Oh yeah, I looked soooo attractive right now.

Stripping out of the babydoll, I tossed it into the clothes hamper by the shower and changed into my gym clothes. I threw some shower gel, shampoo and a towel into my backpack as well, pulled my hair back into a low ponytail and brushed my teeth. Fresh-faced and ready to face the world for the first time in three days, I unlocked the door and opened it-

Only to walk smack into Roman.

"Holy shit!" I whisper-yelped, being mindful of the sleeping Rollins feet away at the other end of the living room. "What the hell, Roman?! Were you trying to listen in on me taking a shower or something?!"

"Actually, I was waiting to see who it was who was up," he whisper-retorted. "I got a pretty good idea it wasn't Seth when I came through."

"And we're lucky if Dean's up before noon," I whisper-conceded, manoeuvring my way around him. It was then that I clocked what he was wearing. Sweatpants, sneakers, t-shirt, track hoodie over his arm, Beats slung around his neck, hair in a man-bun. Shit. So much for my solo morning workout. "So, er, what are you dressed for?"

"I'm gonna assume the same place you are," he whisper-replied, gesturing at the gym bag he'd left by my front door. "Are you even allowed to work out with…that?" He motioned at my head.

"I've got a broken nose, Roman, not a broken leg," I hissed defensively.

"I meant your concussion."

"While I appreciate the concern, it's only mild. Besides, the only thing I've been signed off for is ring work so I don't take another whack to the head. As long as I don't overdo it, I'm fine." I made my way over to the kitchen area and opened the fridge, taking out two sports-capped bottles of water. "Want one?"

"That'd be great, thanks." As I tossed one of the bottles over to him, it was a slight shock that I realised this was probably the longest civil conversation Roman and I had ever had. I couldn't work out if the tightening feeling in my chest the realisation had caused was me feeling uncomfortable or what. But I didn't like it.

Shaking it off, I scooped up my car keys from the holder on the kitchen wall and twirled them around my finger. "I take it you want me to give you a ride?" Roman cocked an eyebrow at me. My eyes widened when it clicked. BAD PHRASING. SUCH BAD PHRASING. I coughed awkwardly. "I meant in my car, to the gym."

"I know you did, Red," he smoothly replied, but I didn't miss the smirk curving his lips.

"Get your bag, and get out of my apartment," I said through gritted teeth, hoisting my own bag over my shoulder and making for the front door, making sure to deliberately knock into him as I walked passed.

"Nice car," Roman commented once we were down in the complex's private parking lot.

"He's cute, isn't he?" I said proudly, opening the trunk and dumping my backpack inside, moving to the side to let Roman do the same.

"He?"

"Yup, he," I reiterated. "He's Cas. I named him after Castiel in _Supernatural_."

"I thought you said before that you travelled around the country in this thing before you got to WWE?" he frowned. " _Supernatural_ wasn't out then."

"Au contraire," I said, climbing into the driver's seat. "I said I travelled around the States in my Mustang. That was my first Mustang. This is my second."

"So this is just your car of choice?" he asked, sliding into the passenger side.

"I suppose it is. It reminds me of when I was free to just do me, I guess," I said with a shrug, starting the car up and backing out of the parking space.

The two of us settled into a comfortable silence. It was gonna be another warm day, I could tell. It was barely 10AM and already seventy-five degrees, so I'd taken the top down and was trying not to be jealous over the fact that Roman's hair looked way better than mine as it blew back in the breeze.

We'd been travelling for about ten minutes when Roman decided to break the silence. "So, what kinda music do you have in this thing?" He reached out and hit Play on the CD player. Fuck.

"No, no, Roman, wait!" I squeaked in panic, but it was too late. Halfway through _If U Seek Amy_ by Britney Spears started to very loudly play out of the speakers, and my face flamed in shame.

 _I can't get her off of my brain,  
I just want to go to the party she gon' go,  
Can somebody take me home?  
Haha, hehe, haha, ho._

 _Love me, hate me,_  
 _Say what you want about me,_  
 _But all of the boys and all of the girls,_  
 _Are begging to If You Seek Amy._  
 _Love me, hate me,_  
 _But can't you see what I see?_  
 _All of the boys and all of the girls,_  
 _Are begging to If You Seek Amy._

"So. You're a Britney fan?" Roman teased.

"I hate you!" I whined. "My music credibility just dropped like twenty points!"

"Hey, don't worry about it," he said with a grin. "I'll listen to pretty much anything. I gotta say though, I didn't expect you to be a pop princess."

"Well, you caught me," I said with an uncharacteristic giggle. _The fuck, Sav?_ "I love pop. Lady GaGa, Britney, Christina Aguilera, Kesha, Rihanna...I'm up in all that shit. Though being honest, my favourite genre is definitely rap. Eminem is like my idol, though I do love a bit of Dre, and I definitely wouldn't pass on some Kanye. Of course, then Seth came along with his stupid pop punk, so I guess after twenty-five years I'm finally starting to branch out."

"Wow, Sav, did you just laugh? And smile?"

"...yeah. I guess I did. Felt pretty good, too. And hey, you've gotta admit that the lyrics to this one are pretty accurate."

"What do you mean?"

I smirked at him for a second before singing along, with one minor lyrical adjustment. "All of the boys and all of the girls are begging to F-U-C-K me!"

Roman just rolled his eyes and turned to look out of the window, but part of me was sure I heard him mumble, "Can't argue with that."

* * *

"ROMAN! Goddamn it, you've been on that fucking treadmill for a half hour! I need it!"

"Should have got on when you had the chance, baby girl."

"I didn't want it when I had the chance, I want it now!"

"Tough shit, I still have a mile to go."

I leaned back against the wall with my arms crossed, face set in an irate frown as I stood to the side of said treadmill. Roman just grinned at me. Thank God the gym was almost empty, or else I probably would have annoyed some people by being so loud. As it was, there were just a few other morning people enjoying an early-ish workout...including the newbies, Eva Marie and JoJo. I guess they were checking out the Performance Centre as well.

They had arrived about fifteen minutes after us, both clad in little lycra shorts and sports bras. I could have sworn they were even wearing bronzer. Like, were they being fucking serious? If you're gonna get a real sweat on then you don't need a full face of makeup on the account that after five minutes it would be dripping down your cheeks. This was yet further proof to me that the two of them were only here because they got cast on that fucking reality show. If it wasn't that, there was also the fact that they were just rolling around the gym doing fake moves on each other, giggling like teenagers.

I couldn't fucking listen any longer. "I gotta go to the bathroom and refill my water bottle," I told Roman. "If you're not off this fucking machine when I get back, then I'm pulling you off it, capiche?"

"You can try, Sav," he replied, so I kicked the side of the treadmill in response before heading out of the room. Sure enough, when I returned, Roman had vacated the treadmill for me, which did in fact surprise me a little.

"Hey Ro, thanks for actually-" I called out, but I faltered when I saw the reason why Roman was off the treadmill. It was because he was too busy talking to Eva and JoJo. Something in my chest stirred when I saw the little smirky grin Eva was giving Roman. I tightened my hand around my water bottle, and I found myself wondering if I could hit her in the eye from this distance.

What the fuck was wrong with me?! They were just talking, and besides, it's not like I cared about who Roman spoke too. We were friends, just about. That was all. He was my brother. I ONLY SAW HIM AS A BROTHER.

Then Eva stretched her arms above her head, making out that her back was aching, but how convenient that the move caused her tits to almost pop out of the pink lycra wrapped around them.

The 'something' in my chest snapped, and I saw red. Shaking my hair back, I walked over to the three of them and smartly stepped in between the space between Eva and Roman, offering my hand to the unnatural redhead. "Hi, Sav Jordan," I said sweetly. "You know, the other newbie who actually earned her place on the main roster?"

Eva looked a little pissed about my interruption (hm, hadn't I overheard her backstage with Nattie talking about her fiance? Skanky bitch) but she took my hand and shook it nonetheless. "Eva Marie," she said, sounding putout. "This is JoJo."

"Hi JoJo," I said, more genuine this time as to be fair to her, she was only nineteen. A little girl in my eyes. "Nice workout gear, by the way," I added to Eva.

"Thanks. I like your, er, bandage. Shame you're out of the ring for so long."

"At least I can still be on TV and keep relevant. Oh, and good idea to think ahead and forget to wear a top. It can get _so_ warm in here when you're putting in the work. I'm just burning up." I placed my water bottle down and pulled my tank top over my head, dropping it at my feet and leaving myself clad in my own push-up sports bra. _Suck it, bitch, two can play at this game._

Okay seriously, I didn't know why I was acting like this and it was starting to scare me. I did not get jealous, and I sure has hell didn't have a reason _to_ be jealous over Roman talking to Eva. I didn't! Though I did feel a very large surge of victory when, out of the corner of my eye, I saw Roman tear his gaze off of her to look at me.

"Well, we didn't mean to interrupt," Eva said, talking directly to Roman and blanking me entirely. "We just had to introduce ourselves."

"Sure you did," I muttered, rolling my eyes.

"Nice meeting you," she and JoJo chorused, and they both sauntered off to the other end of the gym.

"You okay, Sav?" Roman questioned. "Your face is really red."

"Like I said, I'm too hot," I said coolly, bending down and taking a swig from my bottle. "So, I say we stay for another hour, then...fancy hitting up Starbucks?"

"Actually, Sav, I'm gonna have to go," he said. "I forgot that I have this...thing I need to do."

"Thing? Thing?! What kinda 'thing'?!" I demanded.

"Just a thing," he said firmly.

"Well how are you gonna get there? I drove you here," I pointed out.

"I'll walk. It's fine, Sav. See you later." He lightly pulled on my ponytail before he left, leaving me standing there, now highly confused for two reasons.

* * *

I was home just after noon. I buzzed my apartment, assuming Seth and Dean would still be there, but I didn't get an answer. Two more buzzes, no answers. I let myself in and sure enough, once I was upstairs and inside, the place was empty. Seth's blankets and pillow were folded in a pile at the end of the couch, a couple of plates were in the sink, one of them had left a carton of apple juice on the counter top and there was the distinct smell of fried egg in the air.

I kicked off my shoes at the door and headed through to my bedroom, because I was _not_ clearing their shit up for them. I was treated to the delightful sight of my bedroom looking like the result of a nuclear explosion once I got in there, though. Dean had somehow managed to strip the cover sheet halfway off the mattress, the duvet was lying on the floor, the contents of his suitcase was sprawled out of the case and over the floor, the t-shirt and sweatpants he'd slept in were screwed up in the corner and...my underwear drawer was half-open. Lovely.

I dumped my backpack on the dresser, straightened out the bed covers as well as I could, closed my drawer, and shoved all of Dean's shit together. Trying to ignore the somewhat satisfying ache of literally all my muscles, I clambered onto my bed, flicked on MTV for some background noise and cut my time with watching _16 and Pregnant_ and reading _Fifty Shades of Grey_. Hey, I needed something trashy to numb my mind.

I don't know how long I was doing said mind-numbing - it was definitely a few hours - but eventually I heard the boys come back, talking in hushed voices, possibly arguing. What the hell was going on?

"Yo, Sav?" Dean shouted out. "You here?"

"Bedroom," I shouted back, closing my book. "The same bedroom you trashed! Wanna explain why my underwear draw was open?"

"Genuine mistake, I was looking for a phone charger," he answered, and the bedroom door opened, all three Hounds of Justice walking in and standing in a line. Wait, all three? What the fuck was Roman doing with them?! He had 'a thing' to do, didn't he?

"What are you doing?" I asked curiously, sitting up cross-legged on the bed and frowning at them.

"You've been in a really shit mood since Sunday," Seth announced, and I cocked a brow. Tell me something I didn't know. "And honestly, seeing you like that sucked. I mean, how down you looked when we left you at the airport and the text messages gave us a pretty good idea that you were upset, but none of us realised how bad it was until we got here. I mean, the mess, the state you were in, the fact you barely cared about the fact you'd been concussed...it's been a little scary."

"And because we're not total assholes," said Dean. "We kinda wanted to cheer you up a little. Or at least, stop you looking like you want to murder a cat whenever you hear someone laugh."

"So the three of us decided to chip in together and get you a little something to make you smile," said Seth.

"Oh, you idiots, you didn't have to get me anything!" I exclaimed, but I was touched.

"You're not gonna be saying that when you see what we got," Seth said, and he disappeared back out of the bedroom. Seconds later, he was back, and he was carrying a large cardboard box in his arms, which had large circular holes in it. He placed it on the end of the bed, pulled off the lid, reached in...

And pulled out a tiny white dog. Not just any dog. It was a teacup Pomeranian, aka my absolute dream pet. The little guy let out a squeaky, "Arf!" noise and began wriggling around in Seth's hands, so he placed it on the bed and let it run at me. It climbed up my knee and up my thigh, propping itself up on my chest with its paws and licking at my shirt.

"Seth! Dean, Roman, I-" I gasped, my eyes filling with fresh tears as I cupped the dog in my hands and lifted it up, letting its little tongue lick at my face. "I don't know what to say! How did you know?"

"This is all on Ro, actually," said Dean, elbowing Roman in the chest lightly. "He's the one who remembered you telling us you've wanted one of these things since you were sixteen. It was his idea to get you one."

I looked at Roman, my eyes shining with tears. "Roman...I can't believe you remembered. I can't believe you'd do this for me. Is this why you left earlier?"

He nodded, a small smile gracing his face. "Yeah. Like Seth said, it's kinda sucked seeing you so down. Differences aside, you're our sister."

I placed the dog back in its box, standing up and throwing my arms around Roman's neck, squeezing tightly as I buried my face in his chest. "Thank you. Thank you so much. This is the best present I've ever had."

Roman wrapped his arms around me and hugged me back, his hands at the small of my back. "You're welcome, Savvy."

"I absolutely love..." I turned my head and looked back at the dog. "Him?"

Seth nodded too. "Yeah, it's a he. We've been looking for a seller since Monday morning, and as luck would have it, there was a lady selling this little guy in Tampa. One hire car and a three hour round trip later, and here we are."

I let go of Roman and moved to hug both Seth and Dean in turn too. I was in absolute shock. No one, in my whole life, had ever done something like this for me. It was then that I truly realised just how much I did love the three men standing in my bedroom. They were my best friends. My brothers. My real family.

"What are you gonna call him, then?" Dean asked me once I released him from my hug.

I looked around the walls at my various posters, trying to get a zap of inspiration. A flash of red, yellow and green caught my eye. "Robin. I'm gonna call him Robin."

* * *

 **A/N- Soooo, I'm now starting that slow build to what I have lovingly dubbed 'Rovannah'! I hope you enjoyed the chapter, so let me know! Reviews are always appreciated, they're like internet hugs! So review, follow, favourite, and until next time, love you all! Xx Gee xX**


	9. Heart-to-Heart

**A/N- We're continuing some of that Rovannah this chapter, guys! XD Thanks for being so patient since I've been gone. Thank you so much to YinandYang1234, DancingGirl0 and ShieldGirl316 for reviewing!**

* * *

 **Chapter Nine- Heart-to-Heart**

 _ **WWERollins: PSA - SavvyAsHellWWE snores. Information supplied by a reliable source. #buzzsaw #DefinitelyWasntDeanWhoToldMe  
**_ _ **Tweeted 05/26/13 08.26AM**_

 _ **WWERomanReigns: WWERollins SavvyAsHellWWE No, it's more like a chainsaw. She likes chainsaws better anyway.  
**_ _ **Tweeted 05/26/13 08.35AM**_

 _ **SavvyAsHellWWE: WWERollins, WWERomanReigns, I will end you & everything you love. Then I'm shoving Dean out a window. I DON'T SNORE. #LoveYouReally  
**_ _ **Tweeted 05/26/13 08.39AM**_

"Bye-bye, baby!" I twittered, showering Robin's little face in kisses as I lie in front of him on the floor. "Mommy has to go back on the road for a little while, so Mr and Mrs Jackson next door are gonna be looking after you, okay?" He woofed at me in reply, so I scooped him up and cradled him to my chest. I placed a final kiss on the end of Robin's nose and gently placed him in his (brand new) black Louis Vuitton carrier. Hey, I was finally earning decent money and I deserved to treat myself and my baby to nice things. He yelped in alarm when I zipped it up, but I poked a treat in and he soon shut up.

"Guys! I don't wanna leave him!" I whined. "He's just an ickle baby, I haven't even had him a week! He'll miss me!"

"This was a bad idea," I heard Seth mumble.

"I thought I was doing something nice!" Roman hissed back.

"Sav, darlin', it's just a dog," said Dean, wheeling his case out of the bedroom. "And we get that you love him oh-so very much, but you can't exactly fly the little guy to Canada with us. You'll lose him in a snowdrift."

"I know, I know," I sighed, placing the carrier on top of my trolley case. "But that doesn't mean I won't miss him. They say the first separation period is the hardest."

"Who's 'they,' exactly?" humoured Seth.

"I don't know, just 'they!'" I retorted. "What I do know is that he's my baby! Hell, he's probably the only baby I'll ever have."

Dean stiffened up slightly beside me, but quickly composed himself and nonchalantly said, "What makes you say that?"

"Oh, you know, just that I can't imagine a guy putting up with me for long enough to want a kid with me…" I said delicately. "I don't exactly have the best track record with boyfriends."

"Let's not get into this again, Rosie."

"I don't recall mentioning your name in that, _Jon_."

"Can we not do this right now? I can't take you seriously when you're wearing a _Mean Girls_ quote."

I looked down at my _You Go, Glen Coco_ vest in surprise. "You know, I'm both shocked and a little concerned that you know this is from _Mean Girls_."

"You forced me through it when you skipped training for the Tournament of Death because of cramps. I'm not likely to forget you crying at the prom scene in a long time."

"I was twenty-one and hormonal. Suck it up." I closed my hand around Robin's carrier and lifted it from the trolley case with a sad sigh. "Right, I'm gonna run Baby next door and then I say we go down and wait for the cab. It's almost six PM, so it should be here in ten minutes. The flight's at seven."

"Sounds like a plan, man," Dean replied...walking over to the kitchenette and proceeding to empty the contents of the cupboards into his backpack.

"If you eat all my S'more-flavoured Pop Tarts, I will kill you in your sleep," I warned him as I walked out the front door.

* * *

"Red. Jesus Christ. Stop wailing, you'll see him in like five days," said Roman, putting his arm around me. I didn't...really understand what was going on with us right now. We'd been fine around each other, but with my jealous freak-out in the gym on Wednesday, him going out of his way to buy me Robin, and the complete lack of arguments...

I was so confused. And I didn't like it.

"He was calling for me when I walked out of the apartment!" I cried, pressing my face into Roman's arm to stem the noises I was making. "I left my baby all alone with strangers! Will they know that he really likes to be scratched behind his ear when you feed him?! Of course they fucking won't! Ohhh, I'm an emotional wreck."

"No shit," Roman said, but he kept his arm around my shoulders. "I think every other passenger has picked up on that too." Oh yeah. We were currently sitting on the plane to Calgary, Alberta, Canada, waiting for take-off. I hadn't stopped snivelling since I'd left Robin with the Jacksons. Forty minutes ago.

"Well I'm not apologising," I said stoutly, straightening up in my seat and wiping my eyes, double-checking that my seatbelt was fastened. "I'll choose to vent my distress however I damn well please."

Roman not-so-subtly craned his head up to look over the chairs for Dean and Seth, who were seated about four rows ahead of us. "Talk about drawing the short straw," I heard him mumble.

"Hey! Some support would be nice!" I exclaimed, whacking him in the chest and ignoring the fact that hitting a wall of muscle probably caused me a lot more pain than it did him. The dude was fucking solid. "Besides, in a roundabout fashion this is kinda your fault!"

He blinked. "How the hell have you worked that out?"

"You bought him for me! Well, okay, all three of you bought him but since you were the instigator then the blame falls to you. Sometimes I think I prefer it when we're at each other's throats." _At least I know where I stand then_ , I thought. If Roman and I were constantly arguing, it would rile me up enough to forget about the weird attack of the green-eyed monster in the gym the other day.

"Give it time, I'm sure we will be," he replied, closing his eyes and resting his head back as the pilot announced we were about to take-off.

Once we were up in the air and able to start moving around again, I rummaged through my carry-on and grabbed my iPod and purple bedazzled Beats. Roman had already shut himself off from the world and I was ninety percent sure that he'd actually fallen asleep. I always found it difficult to sleep on planes, so I tried to pack myself as much entertainment as possible.

I plugged my headphones in and selected Nicki Minaj's _Pink Friday_ before delving back into my carry-on and retrieved the book I was currently reading: _The Shining_ by Stephen King, my favourite author.

Not that it's a surprise, but I _so_ was not into all that Nicholas Sparks shit. Lovey-dovey 'love conquers all' storylines brought me out in a rash. Give me murderous fathers and bleeding elevators any day. The flight to Calgary was almost five hours long, but I'd been stupid enough to put my PSVita into my suitcase rather than my carry-on. I had _FIFA 13_ in there, too!

I had my music on shuffle, and after about a half hour I had to put my book down and quietly start laughing to myself because of the song that had just started up: _Roman's Revenge_ featuring Eminem. It had been one of my favourite songs since the album came out, but now it had a nice little bit of relevance. Glancing out of the corner of my eyes, I could see my Roman's chest steadily rising and falling. He was asleep. And by 'my Roman' I obviously mean the living one, not Nicki Minaj's fictional alter-ego. Obviously. He wasn't and never would be 'my Roman.'

Seeing the opportune moment to give him a little shock to wake him up – because if I was gonna be awake, goddamn it, so was he – I decided to have a little fun. I played out the duration of the song, but as soon as it got to the point I needed, I hit pause but cranked the volume as high as it would go. Then, as carefully as I could, I removed my Beats and placed them over Roman's ears. I double-checked that it hadn't woken him up, and in one, two, three…play.

 _Roman! Roman!  
Stop it, stop it!  
You've gone mad! Mad, I tell you, mad!  
You and this boy Slim Shady!  
What's going on?  
They'll lock you away!  
They'll put you in a jail cell!  
I promise!  
Take your mother's warning, Roman, please!  
_

"WHAT THE HELL!?" he roared, jumping five inches off his chair and ripping the headphones off in panic while I shrieked with laughter. "Sorry! Sorry…" he added to the startled passengers around us who had all just shit themselves in alarm from Roman's shout. Even Dean and Seth had turned around to see what was going on, though they were both laughing.

"That's a point to me, then," I gasped out between giggles, now even more amused.

"Why would you do that?!" he demanded, glaring at me after he'd flipped off the guys.

"Why wouldn't I?" I countered. "It seemed appropriate. Besides, I can't sleep. My, um, nose hurts."

"That's because it's bleeding again," he said nonchalantly.

"What?!" I squealed, my hands flying to my nose in a panic. No blood, but I had just smacked the bruising so hard that I was partially seeing stars. "You asshole!" I exclaimed, whacking him in the chest.

"I think that makes it one-all," he smirked, crossing his arms behind his head and closing his eyes again.

"Nooooope," I said quickly, giving him another whack. "I'm awake, so you're awake. We still have four hours to go, so suck it up, babe."

"Babe?" Roman quirked a brow.

"Babe. Yes, babe," I said. "If you can call me baby girl, Little Red and everything in between, then I'm calling you babe. I am just as capable of annoying you."

"What if I like it?" he shot back.

"You don't," I said confidently, though my stomach twisted slightly. Butterflies? NO. Of course it wasn't butterflies! It was annoyance. Besides, why the hell would he like me calling him babe? Exactly. He wouldn't.

The rest of the flight passed in this fashion; Roman and I throwing joking digs at each other and having a laugh. Everything seemed pretty average…until I suddenly heard the 'please fasten your seatbelts' announcement. I stirred and opened my eyes, and then I froze.

I'd fallen asleep. I'd actually managed to fall asleep on a plane, which was enough to surprise me in itself until I then realised how I'd fallen asleep. My head was resting on Roman's chest and I had my arm stretched across him. I could hear his heart beating.

"Are you gonna get up, or should I just fasten my belt over you as well?" he suddenly asked through a suppressed yawn.

"I'm gettin' up, I'm gettin' up," I mumbled, my voice thick from sleep. Jesus Christ, how long _had_ I been asleep?! Also, why was my Texan accent always that bit more pronounced when I first woke up? I peeled myself off him and clipped in my own seatbelt, rubbing my eyes and thanking Jesus that I never wore make-up when travelling.

"Thought you said you couldn't sleep?" he mocked.

"So did I," I muttered. "You could have moved me, you know."

"I didn't mind. You were warm. Besides, if you were asleep that meant you were quiet. I went back to sleep too."

"...oh." I wasn't sure how I felt about the fact Roman and I had practically fallen asleep in each others' arms.

" _ **Ladies and gentlemen, it is 10.27PM and we are now arriving at Calgary International Airport. Please enjoy your time here, and thank you for flying with American Airlines.**_ "

"Oh thank God," I whispered to myself; get me off this fucking plane. Within fifteen minutes, Roman and I had joined Seth and Dean in the airport, waiting for our luggage to come down the belt.

"You guys looked pretty fucking cozy earlier," Dean commented slyly, grabbing his trolley case as it passed him.

"I was tired," Roman and I answered simultaneously.

"You're so in sync, it's cute," teased Seth.

"Shut the fuck up, Rollins," I snapped, grabbing my own case, pulling up the handle and leaning on it. "I'm hungry, so I don't recommend annoying me right now. Someone take me to McDonald's."

"Oh God, Sav, not now," he replied. "It's late, we need to just get to the hotel and crash out before Raw tomorrow."

"But I need food!" I whined. "There's a McDonald's literally right outside! We'll be twenty minutes at the most!"

Dean shook his head. "Sorry S, but we ain't budging on this one. We've gotta get going."

"Please?" I requested in a childish voice.

Roman sighed heavily. "I'll take her. I could use some food too."

Dean snorted. "Ohhhh, we see how it is. Well then, Sethie, I guess we better get going then. Don't wanna be third wheel- what the fuck, Sav?!" I'd just snatched his suitcase from him and kicked it fifteen feet away.

"Fetch," I bit out, turning on my heel and flouncing away, the effect somewhat ruined by dragging my case behind me. It wasn't all that long before Roman appeared behind me, holdall in his hand.

"Dean and Seth are taking one of the rentals to the hotel. We're gonna meet them in the gym tomorrow morning," he explained.

"Whatever," I said childishly. "I just want my food and then we can go back. You didn't have to come with me."

He shrugged. "I told you, I'm hungry too."

The bright yellow lights of McDonald's soon loomed in front of us, so warm and inviting in the dark - and fucking freezing - Calgary night. Why the FUCK had I not thought to wear a jacket?! When we'd left Orlando, it had been about eighty degrees. I hadn't even thought about the fact we'd be flying into a city where the highest temperature for May barely cleared fifty.

"Holy shit, I didn't plan for this," I gritted out through chattering teeth as the two of us emerged from the warmth of the airport, wrapping my arms around myself to preserve warmth. The McDonald's was still a good seven hundred yards away, and, oh look, it was pouring with rain.

Roman looked me up and down a few times, then unzipped his Shield hoodie and tossed it at me. Underneath he was wearing a tight-fitting long-sleeved t-shirt. I was surprised, to say the least. I'd only been making a passing comment. Still, before he could change his mind, I slipped my arms into the sleeves and zipped myself into it, drawing the hood up over my head.

"Cozy?" he asked me, and I nodded. Curse my tiny frame; the hoodie was basically the same length as most of my dresses, the sleeves trailed past my fingertips and the hood almost came over my eyes and made me look like a freaking Dementor...but I was oh-so warm.

Once inside the McDonald's, we queued for our food (a Big Mac meal for Roman, a Happy Meal and free toy for me, because maturity) and sat down at a two-person table in the far corner of the restaurant where we hopefully wouldn't be disturbed. For a while, we sat in a companionable silence, and if anyone recognized us, they didn't bother us.

"How did you get that scar on your stomach?" Roman suddenly asked, and I choked on a fry. My blood ran cold, and I shivered despite wearing Roman's hoodie.

"Wh-what?!" I spluttered after taking a long sip of Coke to clear my airway. "Wh-what are you talking about?"

"The scar. On your stomach. The one next to where your tattoo ends."

"How do you know about that?" I hissed, looking around to check no one would overhear us. "No one is supposed to know about that!" Well, except Dean.

"In the gym, the other day," he replied. "When you took your tank top off. I saw it. Why have I never seen it before? You wear crop tops all the time."

"Shit," I muttered under my breath. I hadn't even been thinking that day in the gym, I'd just wanted to get one up on Eva Marie. I was usually so careful! _How_ had I been so stupid?! "I just...I don't like people seeing it so I put stage foundation on it. It's nothing."

"Sure seems like something," he commented, keeping his tone light as he bit into his burger. "If it was nothing then you wouldn't go through so much to keep it hidden."

"Roman, please just...don't," I said sharply, suddenly sick of him pressing the issue. "I had an operation when I was seventeen and it scarred, okay? End of story and to be honest, Roman, it's not really any of your business." I technically wasn't lying. It was from an operation.

Roman frowned at me. "That's all you had to say, baby girl," he said, and we lapsed back into silence for a few minutes, until...

"Hey, I'm sorry to bother you but are you Roman Reigns and Savannah Jordan?" The both of us looked up at the young man standing by our table. He was probably around my age, possibly slightly younger, with a beard and wearing a lumberjack jacket.

I gave him a small smile. "Yeah, we are."

"Oh man, this is so awesome." The guy's smile almost split his face in two. "Do you mind signing a- a napkin or something?"

Roman looked at me, and I shrugged, so he looked back at the guy. "Sure, brother. Who're we making this out to?" I handed him a pen from my carry-on at the same time the guy placed a napkin in front of us.

"Oh, I'm er, Mitch. Mitch Jenkins," Lumberjack replied.

"Mitch. Nice to meet you, man," Roman said warmly, scrawling, _**To Mitch, Cool jacket, buddy. Roman Reigns**_ and I took the pen and added _**Savannah Jordan xxx**_ **.**

"Here you go," I said, handing him the napkin and smiling.

"Thanks so much, guys, you're great," he said. He hesitated for a moment, then added, "I don't know if this is too much to ask - and no offense, Roman - but Savannah, could I get a quick picture with you?"

My smile faltered a little. "Oh...Mitch, I'm flattered but I'm really tired and I'm not wearing any makeup. I just don't feel right for taking photos. I'm sure you understand."

"Aw come on, please? Just a quick one."

I shook my head firmly. "No, I'm really sorry, I'm not up for it right now."

"It really won't take that long."

"I said no. Please respect that."

"Come on, Savannah, I promise you, just the one picture." Oh my fucking God, how did this guy not understand that I wasn't gonna take a goddamn picture with him?!

"Mitch, no. That's all I'm gonna say on the matter," I said, my tone hard. "It was good to meet you. Goodbye."

The change in Mitch was instantaneous. The smile dropped from his face and was replaced with a...I could only describe it as a leer. "What, you think you can just say no and I'll leave it? We're your fans, we made you! You owe us this!"

"I don't owe you anything," I snapped. "I'm a human being, for Christ's sake, not a statue! Piss off!"

"I. Want. A. Photo." It all happened in what felt like a split second. Mitch grabbed hold of me by the top of my arm and pulled me to my feet, despite my loud protests. The next thing I knew, Roman stood up, towering over Mitch, his face set in a deep scowl.

"She said no."

"Oh yeah? Well what're you gonna do about it, big man?" Mitch challenged.

Roman merely stepped up to Mitch, easily having five or six inches on the lumberjack. "This answer your question?"

"I don't think you can intimidate fans, can you? I think your legal team might have something to say about this," Mitch sneered, but he didn't sound so sure of himself.

"And I think the police might have something to say about putting your hands on an innocent woman. I suggest you let her go before I start making things a little more personal...buddy," Roman threatened, placing his hand on Mitch's chest and giving him a shove. Mitch abruptly released me and pushed me into Roman, who put his arm around me to steady me. _Woah_ , I thought giddily, blinking up at Roman in awe. He'd...he'd helped me. What. The. Fuck.

"Whatever, man," Mitch said petulantly. "I'm not even that big a fan of hers, anyway. I'd rather get a picture with AJ Lee. She's probably only on the main roster because she sucked you all off." And with that delightful parting shot, he stormed from the restaurant.

Looking over the top of me to make sure Mitch had definitely left, Roman gently turned me around and placed his hands on my shoulders. "Are you okay?"

The question was enough to snap me out of my _woah_ state of mind. "Um…I…yeah, I'm a bit shaken, but I…I'm fine. Thank you," I said awkwardly, desperately trying to ignore how good it felt to have his hands on me. I cleared my throat, but when I started talking again, I still sounded just as awkward. "I mean, I-I totally had the situation under control a-and I could have dealt with it b-by myself, but…yeah. Thanks."

He slowly removed his hands from my shoulders and took a step backwards. "I guess you're welcome." He sounded just as awkward as I did. We both sat back down, and in an attempt to diffuse the – _I would not call it tension_ – around us, I grabbed hold of the Hot Wheels that had been in my Happy Meal and started pushing it around the table, actually making little 'vroom vroom' noises as Roman finished his food. Funnily enough, I'd lost my appetite.

"Ready to get out of here?" Roman finally asked.

I was already on my damn feet, hand on my suitcase and carry-on over my arm. "So ready. Let's go."

* * *

The hotel was a twenty minute drive from the airport, according to our rental's GPS. But due to the torrential rain, Roman was crawling along the roads, lights at full-beam and window wipers at full power. This alone would probably add another ten minutes to our journey time.

As we had been in McDonald's, the first half of the ride was spent in silence, the only sounds coming from the radio and the sounds of the rain hammering on the roof and windows. I didn't like the silence. Not this time. Because the silence was giving me time to think. Time to feel. Feel things for Roman.

NO. No, no, _no_! I didn't feel anything for Roman! This was just because I felt some gratitude towards him for sending that asshole on his way earlier. That was _all_! I refused to get involved with a co-worker again, not after what happened with Dean. He'd shattered my heart and my ego – and not to mention part of my sanity – all those years ago. I couldn't go through that again.

I side-eyed Roman, studying his profile. He was nothing like Dean, though. Not in terms of emotions, anyway. Maybe it would be different with him… _oh, get over it, Sav_. It was never gonna happen because I didn't feel anything like that for Roman Reigns! I gave my head a shake, but passed it off as a shiver by drawing Roman's hoodie tighter around me. Oh Jesus, I was a mess.

I don't know what came over me in the next moment, but I was unexpectedly gripped by the need to tell Roman the truth about me. He'd asked about my scar, and…and he hadn't sound disgusted like I'd always expected people to be when they saw it. He'd sounded curious, almost worried about me. He'd just saved my ass. I owed him something.

"I tried to kill myself," I said abruptly and out of nowhere, causing Roman to almost crash due to jerking the steering wheel in alarm. My eyes widened. Why the _fuck_ had I just announced that?!

" _What_?!" he gasped. "Where did that come from?"

"You wanna know how I got these scars?" I mimicked The Joker from _The Dark Knight_.

"Easy, Heath Ledger."

"Well? Do you?"

"I- I guess so, but you said you didn't want to talk about it. I respect that. You said it was from an operation."

"Yeah, it was. An operation to pump my stomach," I said bitterly. "I was seventeen. My life was a fuck up. My mom died when I was fourteen. It was breast cancer. She'd had it since I was ten. At first, it had been controllable, but it just...it got so bad, so quickly. There was no treatment left to give her. Dad stuck around for a few months, but just after I turned fifteen, he just...gave up. He ran off to Huntsville in Alabama and dumped me in the care system, leaving me to get shipped around practically every foster family in the city of Dallas."

"But…you were talking to your dad yesterday?"

"No, I was talking to Frank, one of my foster dads. I'll get to that. So yeah, I was in care for almost three years, and to say I hadn't taken well to being walked out on is the understatement of the millennium. I was an awful person. I didn't care who I hurt or how, or the fact I was hurting myself in the process. B-by sixteen, I was pretty much an underage alcoholic. I-I used to steal booze from my foster parents and drink to forget it all, even at school, not that I was in school that much. The only thing I had was my wrestling training, which my school psychologist had signed me up for after Mom died. I was a trainwreck."

"Sav, you really don't have to-"

"Roman, please just let me finish. So, a couple of months after I turned seventeen, I got moved to a new foster family. Frank and Nora Moore. And they were…they were so _nice._ After a month living with them, I realised I loved them. Loved them like they were my real parents, and they loved me too. That terrified me, loving someone again, but I ignored it because they were giving me a good life. They treated me like I was their real daughter, and still do. That's why I call them Dad and Momma, because to me, they are my real parents."

"And that's who you were talking to last night?"

"Yeah. Frank. My only dad, as far as I'm concerned. But the closer it got to my eighteenth birthday, the closer it got to the state releasing my from the care system. Remember I said how loving my parents terrified me? Yeah, that was why. Because I was gonna lose them like I'd lost my birth parents. So, one day when they were out, I-I went to the kitchen and grabbed a bottle of Frank's fancy vodka, then locked my-myself in the b-bathroom. I f-found Nora's prescription p-painkillers, I e-emptied the bottle and I- I- I…"

I started crying. That is what I did. The emotions and confusion had bubbled up and up as I'd told the story, and attempting to speak about how I'd tried to take my own life was my limit. I choked on the sobs, my eyes screwed up and body practically convulsing. I drew my legs up and curled up in the passenger seat, ignoring how my seatbelt dug into my chest.

I hadn't even realised that Roman had pulled the car over until I heard the engine cut out. We sat there listening to the sound of the rain lashing on the roof and my weeping. I hated this. My past was my main weakness, my _only_ weakness. Why had I opened up like this? I'd torn down all the walls I'd put up around myself years ago, and left myself vulnerable and exposed. I was all set to harden myself up for when Roman inevitably called me an insane, problematic little girl...when I felt his hand on my shoulder.

"This is why I didn't want to push you," he said gently.

I turned my head to look it at him, half of my face concealed by the hood. "I'm s- I'm s- I'm s-sorry!" I bawled. "I th-thought talking about it w-would be easier a-after all this t-time, b-but I forgot just h-how much it h-hurts! It hurts, Roman, it fucking h-hurts!"

He pulled me slightly towards him and tilted my head up by hooking his fingers under my chin. "Don't apologise. I'm sorry I asked. You were right, this was none of my business."

"I don't want to h-hide it anymore," I whispered brokenly, closing my eyes. "But I'm s-so ashamed. I-it's what I d-do best, Roman. I d-don't fix my m-mistakes, I r-run from them. I'm j-just a coward."

"No you're not. If you were, then you'd have tried again. But you didn't. That's gotta say something. You shouldn't be ashamed of something that's made you as strong as you are now."

"What if I told you it wasn't the first time, though?" I muttered. "I'd done it before, trying to get attention. It wasn't enough to do any lasting damage. Don't you get it?! I'm fucked up, Roman. I'm your typical case of abandonment issues. You should stay away from me."

Roman's hands moved to cup my face. "I'm not going anywhere, Sav. We're a team." Somehow, and I really don't know how, our foreheads ended up gently pressed together. My hands were bundled up in my sleeves - a tick of mine whenever I felt nervous - but I shook them out, bringing them up to lock my fingers around Roman's wrists. My need to feel close to someone outweighed the butterflies swarming my stomach. This was weird. It wasn't supposed to happen. It was...I didn't know what it was. Roman and I were friends. This was how a friend would comfort a distressed friend. That's what this was.

 _I'm a mess, that's the best way to describe it!  
_ _I leave no time to myself, the only way I can fight it!  
_ _When I'm alone, it's like I'm staring into a mirror,  
_ _Don't know the person inside it and that's never been any clearer!_

I pulled back from Roman like I'd been scalded as my phone screamed out _You Be Tails, I'll Be Sonic_ , my new ringtone, in my pocket. I let out a small hiccup as the last few sobs worked their way from my body, scooched back into my seat and pulled the phone from my jeans. It was Dean.

"H-Hey Deano."

"Yo, we get that the two of you were probably getting busy in an airport bathroom, but where the fuck are you?"

I wiped my eyes and tried to adopt my regular speaking voice instead of the rasping whisper I had from all the crying. "About fifteen minutes away. We've, er, had to pull over, the rain's fucking insane."

"Is that some kinda code for saying you're wet?"

"DEAN AMBROSE!" I shrieked, so taken aback that I temporarily forgot why I was so upset. "I know I've got no filter, but holy fucking shit! Too far!"

"Is that a yes?"

"No! Fuck off. We'll be there when we'll be there. See you in the morning. Goodbye. I'm hanging up."

"Aw Savvy, don't be like that, I-" I cut Dean off and turned my phone off for good measure. Oh look. More silence. That seemed to be rapidly becoming tonight's theme. Dean's phone call had managed to calm me down to the point where I now felt much more embarrassed than distressed. I'd opened up to Roman completely, and though he said otherwise, I was still sure he probably thought I was totally fucked in the head.

"You okay now?" he finally said.

I slowly nodded.

"You wanna talk about it anymore?"

I shook my head. "Nope." I popped the 'p' for emphasis.

"Alright then." And with that, Roman turned the engine back on and within seconds, we were back on the road and heading towards the hotel.

* * *

"Please don't tell Seth and Dean," I begged Roman once we'd parked in the hotel's underground lot. "I don't need everyone finding out that I was a suicidal ball of teenage angst."

"I'm not gonna say anything, Sav, I promise," he assured me. "It ain't my secret to tell."

"Thank you," I said in a small voice. "Thank you for listening to me. Thank you for saving me from that fuckface at the airport."

"Any time. Just don't tell the guys we can get along," Roman said, winking at me. I hesitated for a few moments, then leaned over the gap between our seats to press my lips against his.

"Sav, what are you-" he started to say when I pulled back, but I just placed my finger over his mouth to quiet him.

"I think we've talked enough," I said softly before kissing him again, much more heated this time. Roman wrapped his arms around my waist and pulled me into his lap, allowing space for me to straddle him. My hands laced in his hair as I removed my mouth from his to discard my hoodie, only to reattach myself a millisecond later.

"Make me forget," I pleaded against his mouth. "Please. Make me forget what I told you. Make it go away."

I parted my lips and allowed Roman to slide his tongue into my mouth, moaning the second it touched mine. I gasped into his mouth as he trailed his hands under my shirt and up my sides, pulling the tank top over my head and tossing it to the floor before removing his own t-shirt.

I pressed a feverish kiss to Roman's shoulder where his sleeve tattoo ended, but my head soon lulled back as Roman began to layer nipping kisses down my neck whilst tracing the shapes of the roses along my ribs with his finger. I let out a low whine when he reached my sweet spot, which he saw as an invitation to graze his teeth along the point before lightly biting down. I used this time to kick off my Harley Quinn Converse.

"I want you, baby girl," he growled. "I wanted you as soon as I saw you."

"So why haven't you done anything about it?" I murmured, rolling my hips experimentally and feeling his hardness beneath me. My breath caught in my throat when he moved back and I saw the lazy grin he was giving me.

"I'm doing something about it now," he answered salaciously, and he suddenly reached behind my back and unclipped my bra, slipping the straps down my arms and leaving me exposed to him. Wrapping an arm around my waist and sitting forwards slightly more, he used his other hand to recline the passenger seat as low as it would go and, quick as a flash, maneuvered the two of us over the seats so I was lying beneath him. I relished in the feeling of our bare skin touching. "You're beautiful..."

He lowered his head and traced his tongue around my left nipple, which hardened instantly, and a breathy moan spilled from my lips as I grabbed hold of his biceps and dug my nails into the muscle. "Roman...baby..."

"Let go, Sav," he rasped, his breath tickling me and sending a flash of heat straight to my core as he began to suckle. That familiar coil was winding tightly in my stomach, and I desperately needed it to break, to get that release.

"Ahh! Ro- Roman!" I cried out in ecstasy as he used his other hand to caress my right breast. I arched my back up and threw my arms above my head, my nails scratching against the nylon headrest. I could feel the wetness pooling between my legs; the one place I wanted Roman to be more than anything.

"That's it, scream for me," he whispered huskily as he raised his head, briefly kissing me once again. "Scream my name."

"You're gonna have to do more than this to get me to scream, darling," I challenged.

"Oh really?" he smirked. "Let me fix that." He drew a line between the valley of my breasts with his tongue as he lowered himself down, somehow finding enough space in the foot area of the car to kneel. He trailed kisses all over my stomach, and his hands found the button of my jeans.

He popped it open and pulled down my zip, jerking the waistband down and peeling the denim from my body. All I was left in was my black lace panties, and soon they were gone too. "So beautiful," Roman repeated, draping my legs over his shoulders and pressing a soft kiss to my garter tattoo.

"Roman, please," I whimpered, placing my hand at the back of his head and gripping his hair.

"Anything you say, baby girl," he rumbled, and he ran his tongue up my slit, my hips bucking involuntarily when he swiped over my bundle of nerves...

 **BEEP**

"Mmm, Roman..."

 **BEEP**

 **BEEP**

 **BEEP**

My eyes fluttered open to the sound of my cell's alarm ringing, dragging me kicking and screaming from my dream. I scrambled into an upright position, hands fisted in the bed covers and my breath coming in pants. "What the fuck!"

I spoke aloud to the empty hotel room in the hope that something would speak back to me to prove that I was, in fact, going insane. It was the only explanation. I couldn't believe I'd just dreamed that. This was getting fucking ridiculous now. It proved how long it had been since I got laid; I was acting like a sexually deprived teenager.

I scrubbed a hand down my face and pushed back the covers, standing up and stretching, heading to the shower. Suffice to say, that was _not_ what had happened when Roman and I had finally made it to the hotel last night. While I had asked him not to tell Seth or Dean what I'd said - regardless of the fact Dean knew anyway - Roman had simply promised he'd stay quiet and that was that. No kissing, no fumbling, no...other stuff. Just two friends taking their luggage and going to separate hotel rooms.

Friends.

But as I stood in the shower, massaging shampoo into my hair, part of me couldn't help but wonder if...if I did really want Roman to still be my friend. Part of me was wondering if...I really did have feelings for him? I didn't _want_ to have feelings for him. I was at least 70% sure that Roman and I would never, ever be compatible...regardless of how well we went together in my dream.

My phone pinged with a text in the next room, so I shut off the water and stepped out of the stall, wrapping myself up in one of the uber-fluffy white towels. Twisting my hair up into another towel, I padded through to the bedroom and grabbed it, unlocking it.

 _ **\- One New Message -  
Roman Reigns**_

 **Hi Sav. Change of plan. Me and the guys are heading for breakfast. Late nights all around, apparently. We're in the dining room so see you in a few?**

 _Sounds like a plan. Be there in 10. Oh, and...thanks for last night. Means a lot._

 **Don't mention it. Hope you're feeling okay now.**

I didn't bother to reply to that; I wanted to keep the private interactions between Roman and I to a minimum. It was just gonna fuck with everything even more than it was already fucked. Fucked like I would have been if I hadn't freaking woken up.

 _Get a grip on yourself_! I scolded myself as I tugged a sports bra over my head and stepped into a pair of black capris. _It was a dream! It's never gonna happen!_

"But maybe it could," I said aloud, pulling a tank top printed with Freddy Krueger, Jason Voorhees and Leatherface in a police lineup. "It could happen..." I could make it happen. If I was brave enough. If I stopped acting like a scared child.

What if he felt something for me? It was a long shot, but maybe, just maybe, it was a risk worth taking. He'd listened to me. I'd told him everything and he'd listened to me. Dean had laughed in my face and called me a psycho when I'd opened up to him in a drunken fit almost five years ago, which had been followed by him storming from my apartment.

Roman hadn't ran. He'd stayed. He'd held me while I cried. Surely - _surely -_ that had to mean something? _I could ask him out_ , I thought as I laced up my pale pink Nikes and, not bothering with make up, headed out of my room. That wasn't too much of a stretch, was it? If it worked out, maybe this could be the start of something amazing. Or he'd turn me down and I'd never be able to look him in the eye again. One or the other.

I tried to quiet my thoughts as I jogged down the four flights of stairs to the dining room. By the time I was down there, the boys had gotten themselves settled at a 4-person table, which was quite literally covered in plates of food.

"Hey, there she is!" Seth called happily, raising his mug at me. "Good morning, sunshine."

"What up, bitches," I muttered, taking the spare seat between him and Dean, which - oh fantastic - left me facing with Mr Reigns.

"You alright there, Jordie?" Dean asked, shoveling a mouthful of scrambled egg into his mouth. "You're looking a little distracted."

"Bad sleep, crazy dream," I mumbled, picking up the mug of coffee in front of me a downing it in one, barely registering that it was only just lukewarm. My eyes flickered to Roman, who mouthed, _All good?_ and I subtly nodded once before turning my focus to squirting syrup over my oatmeal.

"Yo Ro," Dean said suddenly, a lewd smirk gracing his lips. "There's that pretty lil' waitress who's been checking you out for the last half hour."

My head snapped up violently as Roman groaned, "Man, shut up," but he was staring in the same direction as Dean, so I followed their gaze.

At the end of it stood a tall, twig-like blonde bending over a table about fifteen feet away and cleaning, her skinny little ass directly pointing at us. She was clad in the waitress uniform of black tailored shots, glossy black tights, a white shirt and black stilettos.

"She looks like a high-class prostitute." I meant to say this in my head. However, judging by the three sets of raised eyebrows around me, I had, in fact, said this aloud.

"Ooh, what's the matter, Sav?" Dean cooed sardonically. "Jealous?"

 _Yes_. "Why the fuck would I be jealous, Ambrose?"

"Why the fuck you being so defensive, Jordan?" he countered.

 _Because I want him and now I feel threatened._ "I'm not," I said nonchalantly. "I'm just saying that she's dressed like a fucking hooker."

"Say that a little louder," Seth snorted. "Because here she comes."

"Hey there, can I get you guys anything else?" I thought we were in Canada. Why did this bitch have the strongest Brooklyn accent I'd ever heard. And why the _fuck_ was she making sure to stand so close to Roman that her tits were practically resting on his head?!

"Yeah, actually, you can," I said sweetly, holding up my mug. "I would _love_ a new cup of cappuccino. This one was cold."

"Oh?" She matched my tone of sweetness. IE, she was being completely insincere. "I would have thought that things at this table were plenty hot." She smirked at Roman, and my heart sunk when he grinned back at her.

"Thanks, baby girl, but we're all good here, I think," he replied. BABY GIRL?! I thought that was our thing...

"Are you sure?" she simpered. "There must be _something_ I could give you." Real classy innuendo.

"Nah, we're sure. But if I think of anything you can, er, help me with, I'll give you a shout." Cue a wink. My blood was boiling at this point. Oh, who the fuck was I kidding? Roman had no feelings for me whatsoever, clearly. I'd been stupid to think otherwise. He'd been being friendly. I'd looked too deeply into it, as per usual. Not that this stopped me shooting death glares at Miss Waitress' back as she sauntered away, but not before she'd seen fit to trail her fingertips up Roman's arm.

"Holy fuck, Roman," cheered Dean. "She was _smokin'_ hot!"

"She was alright," Roman said with a shrug.

"Oh please, Roman, we could see you drooling over her ass when she walked away," I spat out venomously.

"Sav's right, bro, you weren't subtle," Dean snorted. "She looks game, man. Get her number. She looks good for a hook up."

"Nice, Dean," I bit out mordantly. "Does every girl look 'good for a hook up' to you?"

"Not the ugly ones," he replied, and I made a noise of discontented disgust. He hadn't changed since the independents, that much was obvious. And being honest, it looked like Roman had the potential to be taking a leaf out of his book.

"I say you do it," Dean continued. "Get a good bang out of her, then we're outta town and you never see her again. Let's face it, dude, you need to get laid."

Roman turned around again, considering the blonde. "I'll think about it, alright? If I see her tonight, I'll get her number."

The sound of shattering echoed through the dining room, causing some guests to look around for the source of the noise; I'd 'accidentally' knocked a glass of milk off the table. "Oops. My bad." Thankfully, it was a waiter who came to clear up the mess, not Blondie McSlutface. As soon as he was gone, I shoved my chair back and stood up, grabbing my purse and placing it over my shoulder.

"Okay there, Sav?" Seth asked me, looking concerned.

"Fine. Just fine," I snapped, tucking my chair in. "I've decided I'm going straight to the gym."

"You haven't even eaten anything," pointed out Roman, gesturing at my full plate of food.

"Yeah, well, I'm not really hungry," I said sourly. "In fact, I feel sick to my stomach." I didn't hang around to hear what any of them had to say. I just turned on my heel and practically fled the room, mouth pressed in a firm line to avoid starting to cry again. It was time for me to crush what little feelings I had for Roman Reigns.

Whatever the cost.

* * *

 **A/N- Hope you all enjoyed the chapter! I'd really appreciate some feedback, it means the world to me! Xx Gee xX**


	10. Dirty Tactics

**A/N- Many thanks to angelsdee327, grrlygrrl and DancingGirl0 for your lovely reviews! They mean so much!**

* * *

 **Chapter Ten- Dirty Tactics**

 _ **SavvyAsHellWWE: I'm all about ensuring my boys' victory. So what if my methods are 'unconventional?' Even injured, I'm still the #SirenOfTheShield. Hear my cry.  
**_ _ **Tweeted 05/27/2013 19:37PM**_

"I!"

 _Thwack._

"Don't!"

 _Thwack._

"Want!"

 _Thwack._

"Him!"

A fourth roundhouse kick to the punching bag in front of me almost sent it flying off its hook, and I landed on the balls of my feet, chest heaving in sheer anger. Brushing my hair back, I set to throwing hooks at the bag. I was fuming. With my lack of makeup, scruffy hair scraped into a bun and general pissed off expression, I probably looked terrifying. Which was good, because if anyone came within a ten-foot radius of me right now, I would tear their fucking face off.

I'd been in here by myself for the better part of the last forty-five minutes, and there was no sign of the boys arriving any time soon. No doubt Seth and Dean were too preoccupied with egging on Roman to get the whore's phone number. Hell, maybe he'd caved and was too busy fucking her in a broom cupboard to bother with a workout. I didn't care if he was.

Yes I did.

No I didn't.

Yes I did.

"NO I DON'T!" I bellowed. I leapt up and nailed the punching bag with a dropkick, landing with a muffled thud on the protective mats surrounding me. "What?" I snarled at the alarmed gym-goers staring at me as I stood up. "You never seen someone take aggression out on a piece of gym equipment before? Disperse!" I waved my hand dismissively at them, and they all hastily turned back to their treadmills, rowing machines, deadlifts etc.

"Christ, Sav, how badly _did_ you sleep last night?" Seth's voice behind me made me jump.

"Yeah Rosie, you're even more hostile than usual." Dean's voice joined the conversation.

I turned around to face them. All three of them, it turned out. "So nice of you to finally join me," I said waspishly. "Sorry for leaving such a delightful breakfast date so early."

"I don't think you can really call what you had breakfast," Seth said, trying to make a joke. "Two spoonfuls of oatmeal and a bite of bacon doesn't really count."

"Oh, so now you're keeping track of my eating habits?" I crossed my arms. "That's only slightly strange, Rollins."

"Attitude problem," mock-coughed Dean.

"Look, are you guys here just to antagonise me, or are you actually gonna get a workout in?" I questioned, rolling my eyes. "Not to point out the obvious, but all three of you are defending your titles tonight so you might wanna consider getting ready for that."

"Any idea what you'll be doing tonight?" Roman asked me. "Your concussion's not cleared for two more weeks."

I shrugged. Damn him for making direct contact that I couldn't ignore. "They haven't told me. I think I need to see Vickie - or God forbid, Brad - when we get to the arena. I'm fully prepared to be told I just need to stand there and look hot, even with my panda nose." Nothing. "This is the part where you agree that I look hot whatever."

"Now why would we lie about such a thing, Rosie?" Dean teased. I made as if I was going to lunge at him, and laughed like a child when he jerked back with a small less-than-manly shriek.

"Aw, Moxxy," I pouted. "Why so scared? I wouldn't hurt ya...much."

"Tell that to the scar on my back," he muttered.

"Hey, you've been in tons of barbed wire matches," I pointed out. "You can't prove that any of those scars came from me. I, at least, have proof." I held up my left arm to show of the small and somewhat faded scar that stretched an inch down the bicep.

"When did you get that?" asked Seth.

"Deano here, actually. What, you've never noticed it?" I replied. "I'd say this is...four years old? Me versus him, my first match against him after he became CZW World Heavyweight Champion. It wasn't even a title match. He wrapped the barbed wire around my arm and pulled it down. It ripped straight through my arm and tore my bicep to the point where the muscle was hanging out. Unsurprisingly, that's probably the worst injury I've ever had."

"I'd say I'm not proud of it, but I am." Dean shrugged.

Seth and Roman looked disgusted, which gave me some small burst of satisfaction. "Oh relax, I got stitched up. The only thing that annoyed me was the fact I was outta action for two months."

"If it's any consolation, you looked fucking hot in those little valet outfits you wore," Dean drawled, wiggling his eyebrows. The shutters came back down over me. Like I needed another reminder of how Dean had only seen me for one thing back then.

"I wasn't even valeting you, Ambrose, so I don't know what you're salivating over," I angrily retorted. "I must have helped Nick beat you about six times in those months off."

"You were fucking him too so it's not like that was all you were helping him with."

"I fucked him twice, so I reaaalllly don't think it's a good idea for you to be tossing around the infidelity card, you jackass." My bad mood was spiking way back up again. "Look, can you all fuck off? I was in the middle of something before you so rudely interrupted."

"What is going on with you today, Red?" asked Roman. "You're seriously blowing hot and cold."

"I'm fine," I reiterated through gritted teeth.

"Ah, here comes the bipolar side," Dean snorted.

"Oh, fuck all of you," I spat, turning my back on them and skulking over to the stack of gym mats in the corner of the room. I dragged the top two into a free space as far away from the boys as possible and settled down to practice some of my yoga. I needed my zen back, in the worst way.

I kicked my sneakers off and decided to start with a basic pose to settle myself down called the modified cobra, which was basically just me lying on the floor, raising my chest up by resting on my arms. I closed my eyes and let the noises of the gym just flood away, already feeling myself calming down.

I loved my flexibility, the fact I could twist my body into whatever position I wanted to. Splits, bends, balances...I could do them all. Mommy and Me gymnastics classes from age three to ten had really helped me out, though I'd kept going once I'd started wrestling.

I focused on nothing except shifting myself from pose to pose for the next hour. My eyes had remained closed almost the entire time, and I took a deep breath as I shifted out of my current position into one of the most complicated poses I could do: the scorpion, so named because you ended up looking like a defensive scorpion when it curls its stinger. This involved me having my forearms and hands flat on the ground and raising my entire body up, resting all my body weight on my forearms as I slightly bent my spine and curled my legs backwards so my feet were a foot away from touching the top of my head.

I didn't know if the guys had stayed, left, separated. For all I knew, they'd already left for the arena. Part of me hoped they had. I hated snapping at them, but I was just so mad at Roman that I needed to take it out on all of them so I didn't raise suspicions. I'd been left alone this entire time, so it made sense to assumed they'd gone, right? Wrong.

"Should I start looking for an exorcist?" Roman's voice startled me enough to get me to open my eyes, and I lowered my head to look through the gap between my arms, my view upside down. He was standing there looking at me, face flushed, arms folded and looking amused. My heart skipped a beat at how hot he looked with his hair tied back, bare chest glistening with sweat and basketball shorts hanging low on his hips.

"That ain't natural," he added with a chuckle.

"I'm all natural, sweetheart," I said breathlessly. "Unlike your charming waitress." It was in that moment I noticed my compromising position: the scorpion involved my chest being pushed out so not only did I currently look like I was pushing my boobs out at him, but they were also dangerously close to falling out of my tank top. How did I notice? Because he was staring at them.

I quickly shifted my body down and moved into downward facing dog, only to realise it now looked like I was sticking my ass in his face. I gave the fuck up.

"Yeah, speaking of that, you wanna talk about your little scene back at breakfast?"

"Now why would I want to do that?" I said coolly, standing up straight and planting my hands on my hips. "I don't like fake bitches or shows of unprofessionalism. She did both. I mean seriously, what kind of waitress feels the need to stand that close to the person they're waiting on?!"

"So you're pissed because she was flirting with me?" Roman asked disbelievingly.

"Yes. Wait- no! Not because she was flirting with you! I just didn't like her! Is that such a crime?"

"Sav, look, you're my friend, if something's annoyed you-"

"We're not friends, Roman!" I let out a bitter laugh. "What, you think a few days of getting along okay makes us the best of pals? Get real. We are not friends. We've never been friends. We're not going to be friends!"

"Okay, so if we're not friends then what the fuck was all that in the car last night?" he demanded stonily.

"Don't _ever_ bring up what I told you last night!" I thundered, giving him a shove. "Ever! I should never have fucking said anything, let alone to you! Just forget what I told you, please!"

"You told me you tried to kill yourself!" He dropped his voice to a harsh whisper, making sure nobody could overhear us. "How the fuck do you expect me to forget something like that?!"

"Just leave it, for fuck sake!" I spat. "I'm done with this conversation." I pushed past him violently, storming past Dean and Seth while I was at it, both of whom looked very confused.

"So you're just gonna run away again?" Roman shouted after me as I reached the doors.

"Go to hell, Reigns!" I yelled back, throwing my middle finger up and exiting the gym before I broke something- or someone.

* * *

"I thought you and Ro were finally sorting things out?"

"Well Seth, you thought wrong."

"But you've not been arguing. Like, at all."

"Oh my God, why do you all keep saying that?! So what?! This ain't fucking kindergarten, dude, a few okay days doesn't automatically mean we're bros."

"Do you like being this awkward all the time?"

"Damn fucking straight."

"You suit each other, you know. In a really fucked up way."

" _Turn left in two hundred yards._ "

"You heard the lady, Seth. Turn left."

"We're not changing the subject that easily, S."

"Oh yes we are. You're here to be moral support, Rollins, not play Dr Phil."

Seth sighed heavily as he maneuvered his and Dean's rental down the side street the GPS had instructed us down. I smiled slightly, looking out the window. After I'd left the gym and spent some time cooling down in my room, there had been a knock at the door. Seth, being all concerned and shit.

He'd tried to get me to talk about it, but of course I'd blanked that entirely followed by forcibly trying to extract him from the room since I had an appointment to get to. I know, most clichéd bullshit excuse ever, right? Nope, I was being serious. In the couple of hours I'd been by myself I had managed to track down a nearby tattoo parlour and booked myself in for some new ink.

And so, that was where Seth and I were headed after he _insisted_ on driving and going for coffee afterwards. "Any idea what you want?" he asked.

"Yeah, I found a couple of ideas on Pinterest so I email them to the place and they said they could whip up some stencils," I replied, kicking my legs up on the dash and admiring my new Nike hi-tops. "One collarbone, one middle finger."

"Legs down or you can pay for the damages," he said, taking a hand off the wheel to swat at my knee.

"Sorry Mom," I mumbled, bringing my legs down.

"So is there a reason you've suddenly decided to do this?"

I shrugged. "I haven't had a tattoo since we were in FCW, when I got my roses extended to my shoulder. It seems like a good time for a new addition."

"So it's not an attempt at getting a little more attention from-"

"I've gone crazy!" I sang loudly along with the A Day To Remember CD we were blaring from the aux. "'Cause there are things in the streets I don't believe! So we'll pretend we're alright, and sing through-!"

"Alright, alright!" Seth said even louder. "I'll shut up about it! Just stop singing, you sound like a dying leprechaun."

"Jeez, sugarcoat it, why don'tcha," I grumbled, though I grinned at him to show I was joking. "I'm more than aware that I'm tone deaf, thank you, but _Have Faith In Me_ is like my second-favourite song from _Homesick_! Cut me some slack."

"Oh yeah? What's your favourite?"

"Easy. _My Life For Hire_. You know, 'They told me how I should be, but I broke the mold somehow. It's too late to resolve the past right now, but I swear I'll be the one to let the world know what you've done.' I really like those lyrics."

"A good choice. I'm more of a _I'm Made of Wax, Larry, What Are You Made of?_ kinda guy."

"Another good choice, I will admit. Hey!" I abruptly jabbed my finger at the building at the end of the street. "That's our place!"

"This doesn't look seedy at all," Seth commented, parallel parking just in front of the parlour and killing the engine.

"I figured any tattoo place that has a phone number, website and email address is gonna be technologically advanced enough to not give me hepatitis," I shot back, grabbing my purse and exiting the car. "It looks cleaner than where I got my first one, anyway."

"Where was that?" he asked as we walked through the front door to Jake's Ink Palace.

"A friend's backyard back in Dallas," I answered. "I was sixteen, so it's not like I could just waltz into a parlour and besides, I didn't have a fake ID. Millie's big brother was a tattoo artist, I was a little rebel back then, you can see where I'm going with this."

"So which is your first one? Wait!" He tugged on the braid that had replaced my gym bun. "Let me guess. The diamonds?"

I made a noise like a game show buzzer. "Nada." I pulled off my diamond-print cardigan and lifted up the left side of my _Wednesday Addams Is My Spirit Animal_ vest to remind him of the writing I had on my ribs. "This bad boy. It seemed like a good message to Thomas – you know, my birth dad – at the time." Seth knew I'd been in foster care. That's all he would know too.

"Woah!" A dude with a buzz cut and a bright floral sleeve down his left arm unexpectedly came out of the back room. "When you said your name was Savannah Jordan I thought you were joking." He walked over to us and offered me his hand. "It's so great to meet you, name's Jake, owner and head artist."

"Hey Jake, nice to meet you," I said warmly, though I was a little weary given my last fan encounter.

"You too, Mr Rollins, I'm such a huge fan of The Shield," he said excitedly, also shaking Seth's hand.

"Glad to have your support, bro," Seth said with a smile, clapping him on the shoulder.

"So, Savannah, I've managed to get your ideas down on the stencil paper," Jake said. "So if you'd like to take a seat, we can get started. You wanna start off with the finger or the collarbone?"

"Finger," I replied, perching on the reclining leather seat in the middle of the room. "It's been a while. Let me ease my way back in."

I was in that chair for a good two hours, the only sounds being quiet conversation between Seth and I and the hum of the tattoo needle. I let out a small hiss when the needle first pierced the delicate skin of my finger, but once the initial shock had passed, I relaxed. I'd missed decorating my body; maybe I'd get my belly button pierced next.

"I love them, thank you so much!" I gushed as I handed Jake the seventy dollars I owed him. "You're really talented."

"It was nothing at all, thanks for choosing me to ink you." He grinned, giving my hand another shake. "Oh, tell Seth I said good luck for tonight. Sorry it took so long."

"Hey, don't worry about it, he should have put more money in the parking metre," I said flippantly. "See you around, my man."

"Let's see the results, then," Seth said the second I parked my ass in the passenger seat.

I held up my right middle finger above my lip like a moustache, showing off the subtle black rose there. "It's cute, right?"

"What is it with you and roses?" he asked with a shake of his head.

"Savannah _Rose_ Jordan. Hello, anyone in there?" I pretended to knock on the top of his head. "Plus, it was Lorelei's favourite flower. She almost called me Rose too, but settled for the middle name instead."

"Lorelei?"

"Real mom, Seth, keep up."

"Oh yeah, my bad. Shit, that's deep. What about your other one?" I grinned at him as I moved my braid back and tugged the neckline of my tank down, and he squinted at the new line of writing along the left collarbone. "Does that say...?"

My grin got even bigger. "Have faith in me."

* * *

"So you and Roman-" Seth began sometime later as we sat in Starbucks, a half hour before we were due to head to the Scotiabank Saddledome for Raw.

"Will you shut up about me and Roman?" I snapped, throwing a sugar sachet at him and catching him square in the eye. "There _is_ no me and Roman!"

"So why the jealous bitch-fit?" he shot at me. "Don't think I didn't notice. Dean might have been joking about you being jealous of that waitress, but I could tell you really were. Weren't you?"

"I don't wanna talk about it," I mumbled, taking a long and poignant sip of my chocolate mocha Frappuccino.

"Is that a yes?" Seth lightly poked at my cheek with his finger.

"Will you fuck off!" I spat, batting his hand away. "What do you want from me, Rollins?!"

"The truth would be nice," he said.

"Then you'll be waiting a pretty long time. I've got nothing to say."

"Hey, it's okay, you know?" he said gently. "Having feelings for someone. It's normal. You won't always get hurt."

"Wow, Seth, that was beautiful," I said mordantly. "You should write poetry."

"Avoiding the subject again," he said in a sing-song voice.

"It was deliberate," I retorted, copying his tone.

"What are you so scared of, Sav?"

"Nothing, Seth! I'm not scared of anything because I _do not have feelings for Roman Reigns_! How much plainer can I make it?!"

"Then why-"

"I swear to fucking God, if you bring up breakfast one more time, so help me, I will empty this Frappuccino right over your head."

"I'm just trying to help," he mumbled, sipping his latte.

"Well don't!" I exploded. "Don't try to help! I don't _need_ help! Please can we just leave it?! I don't need this kind of hassle before I'm back on TV for the first time in over a week!" I slumped back in my seat with my arms crossed, silently daring Seth to push the subject further.

He didn't. "I'm sorry," he said instead, looking guilty.

"It's fine," I said quietly, draining the last of my drink. "Should we go now? It's not long till the show starts and I still need to find out what I'm doing tonight. I'll drive."

"Sure, if that's what you want," he replied evenly, finishing his own drink followed by pulling on his hoodie.

"I'll shoot Dean a text to let him know we're on our way," I said, much too breezily, whipping my cell out of my pocket.

 _Batman is now en route to Arkham Island. X_

Dean replied seconds later. _**You fucking nerd. See you assholes in a few.**_

 _Still no kiss? I am offended. X_

 _ **Fine. How's this: see ya soon babez xxxxxxxxxx**_

 _I take it back, I take it back! We'll see you soon. X_

As we stepped out of the Starbucks and into the chilly Calgary air, Seth reached out to me and wrapped his arm around my shoulders, pressing a kiss to my temple. "I really am sorry, Savvy," he said. "You're my little sister, I just want you to be happy."

"It's fine," I told him, leaning my head on his shoulder. It wasn't. "I'm just a little sensitive. My last relationship didn't exactly end too well. Mistakes were made, things were said and people got hurt. Mostly by me."

"What, you and Dean? I thought you said you guys weren't in a real relationship?"

"Oh God, Seth, that is a whole other can of worms that I am so not prepared to go into in the mood I'm in. Girlfriend, boyfriend, fuck buddies, whatever. The point is, it ended badly, so me and feelings don't go together. End of." I stepped away from him and unlocked the car. "Now, let's go, shall we? You've got a title to defend."

* * *

"...this is a very large responsibility we're placing upon you, Savannah," Brad Maddox informed me as I sat on his desk. "So I hope you understand the repercussions if you were to fail said responsibility."

"So what you're saying is, you don't trust me?" I gasped in mock-hurt, placing my hand over my heart. "Brad, how could you?"

"Sweetie, I could write a book on the reasons no one should trust you or your hounds," he replied, keeping his tone professional. Annoying, sure, but professional.

"Well, gee, can't argue with that logic," I snorted. "You act like I tell them what to do and who to attack. They're three grown-ass, two hundred pound men, they don't follow me. They don't follow anyone."

"They're going to be following you today," he assured me. "Under no uncertain terms. You will referee both of these championship matches fairly and without bias, because otherwise all four of you are going to find yourselves in serious trouble."

"Christ, Maddox, can you play a different record already?" I sighed. "I got it the first three times. No funny business."

"Make sure there isn't," he warned. "I mean it, Savannah. You won't like what happens if you go against me."

"Yes Brad, I'm truly terrified," I said earnestly, hopping down from the desk and flipping my braid back. "You have my word that I won't interfere with the matches at all."

"Good girl, Savannah," Brad said haughtily, straightening his tie. "Maybe I could like you after all."

"Oh, booooys!" I called as I walked into our dressing room once I'd collected my customised ref gear from Sandra. "We've got a game plan!"

"What did Maddox want?" Dean asked, finishing buckling the belt of his cargo pants.

"To tell me - and you're gonna love this - that I'm gonna be the guest referee for both of your matches tonight," I said smugly, dumping the clothing bundle in my cubby hole.

"Oh, fuck yeah!" Dean cheered, going in for a hug, but I held up my hand to stop him.

"Hold up. Before you start huggin', y'all need to know that I cannot, repeat, _cannot_ make it obvious that I'm leaning at all in you guys' favour," I informed them. "You'll look weak and like cheaters, and I'll look completely biased. We're not any of those things."

"So what're you proposing?" said Seth, raising an eyebrow.

I let out an evil genius chuckle, the stereotypical _mwah ha ha._ "The US Championship will be easy. I'll keep it totally even for as long as I can. Dean, you're gonna have to work with me. Keep Kingston busy and far, far away from getting you anywhere near that mat!"

"Trust me, Rosie baby, the only way he'll get anywhere near pinning me is if I'm dead," Dean menacingly assured me.

"Good man. Seth, Roman, wait by the curtains. You need to be able to see me at all times in case, for whatever reason, the cameras aren't on me," I instructed, pointing between the two of them. "I'll give you the signal when I think it's time. _If_ I think it's time. Obviously we wanna keep this as clean as possible." I wrapped my arm around Dean's shoulders. "Don't want people thinking you're a weak champion, do we, Deano?"

"Why would anyone think that, Rosie?" he innocently asked.

"I'm not saying they _do_ , but it's best not to give them reason to, don't you think?" I pointed out. "Assuming this all goes to plan, I…don't really know what to do with the tag match. I could just call for the bell after a little while, Montreal-style?"

"Too obvious," Roman said curtly. I glared at him, though part of me was relieved we were back to this. My outburst in the gym had had the desired effect.

"Oh? And what would you suggest, the oh-so omniscient Roman Reigns?" I said as equally terse.

"Something that doesn't make us look like total chumps in front of the entire arena," he retorted.

"Well then please, enlighten us all." I gestured grandly to the space in the middle of the four of us. "The floor's all yours, Romey."

"Okay, no, we are _not_ doing this right now!" Seth said firmly, stepping into the space. "You two need to focus and if you can't do that now then just don't talk to each other!"

I raised my hands in surrender. "I didn't start it, but fine. I will be the bigger woman here. So, back on topic, do you just wanna, I don't know, wing it? See if an opportunity comes up?"

"That's all we can do, I think," he said. "Honestly, we're gonna be lucky if they don't realise something's up the first time. You're taking a risk with this, especially since we tried it on SmackDown last week."

"Don't worry, bro, I got this," I said offhandedly. "If I can't have a belt then I'll make damn sure that no one takes yours."

Seth sighed heavily. "Why have you gotta be so stubborn?"

I shrugged. "Dominant personality trait, what can I say?" I picked up the shorts of my referee gear. "Any more questions, or do you wanna get ready given that we go live in an hour and I still need to go to Hair and Makeup?" None of them said anything to me. Instead, they just settled into whatever conversation they'd been having before I arrived and slowly got changed into their gear.

In the near-two months since my debut, I'd become so comfortable around the guys that I felt perfectly at ease to change in front of them, so I unzipped my jeans and removed them, pulling on the gold studded leather shorts I'd been given. As I was assuming that I'd been given a normal referee's t-shirt, I shed my cardigan and tank top and swapped them for the stripes, only to realise that no. No, this was not a 'regular' t-shirt at all. Damn WWE and the idea that Divas always had to show skin!

The ref top didn't even reach my belly button. Instead, it hung around just under my bust in a torn, jagged design. Don't get me wrong, it looked really cool, and Sandra had appliqued a Hounds of Justice patch to the right side, but I was so hoping I could have gone one Raw without needing to cover up. Oh well. Best suck it up and get on with it.

Making sure the boys were in deep enough conversation, I turned my back to them and reached into my Stitch bag, fishing out my tube of stage foundation. I squeezed a small dollop into my hand and quickly massaged it onto my stomach, watching the faint red line disappear.

" _You shouldn't be ashamed of something that's made you as strong as you are now."_

I jumped at Roman's voice in my head, almost dropping the tube. Oh _hell_ no, this was not about to be one of those moments where the girl had an epiphany about her physical ailment because the guy she liked had made a positive comment about it. No. Wasn't happening. I was not that girl.

I screwed the tube shut and quickly hid it back in my bag. Looking out of the corner of my eye, I saw Roman staring at me. Seth and Dean were oblivious, but Roman had seen. Shit. I turned to look at him, my eyebrow raised. His expression was unreadable, as usual. I couldn't tell if it was disappointment, frustration or what. I just knew I didn't like it. I stuck my tongue out at him and he rolled his eyes at me, turning away.

I completed my look with ripped up knee-high socks, my stitches choker and a pair of combat boots (obviously) and I was set to go. "I'm going to Makeup," I informed the guys. "I'll meet you guys by the stair doors before Dean's match, 'kay? Try not to miss me too much."

"Oh trust us, Rosie. We really won't," Dean chuckled as I walked out the door. I laughed quietly to myself; they loved me really.

* * *

"This contest set for one fall is for the United States Championship! First out, your special guest referee: _Savannah Jordan_!" As usual, I had to put up with the usual possibility of being pushed headfirst down the stairs as I made my way to the ring. Fans clapped me on the shoulder, grabbed my hand, took pictures and and shouted at me from all angles, and yes, even after walking out this way since my debut, I still found a way to trip up.

 _Won't you come with me?  
Won't you stay with me?  
Won't you follow me?  
Won't you believe with me?_

I still used my own music whenever I walked out alone, regardless of the fact I'd been asked if I wanted to switch to the Shield theme permanently. That was our song, but this was mine. It showed I still had an identity aside from being in The Shield.

"Let me hear your war cry!" I screamed once I was in the ring, thrusting my fist into the air and earning myself some cries from the audience. I'd never get tired of that. I fluffed out my hair around me. Since I was only refereeing, I'd opted to have my hair dry and loosely curled for a change. There was a moment where everyone started to calm down and my music slowly faded away, only for everyone to hear...

 _Sierra. Hotel. India. Echo. Lima. Delta. Shield._

Cue even more screaming than before from the fans as Dean, Seth and Roman all appeared at the top of the stairs, all three of them clutching their belts. "Introducing first, representing The Shield," announced Justin Roberts, who was standing next to me in the ring. "Weighing two hundred and twenty-one pounds, he is the current United States Champion: _Dean Ambrose_!"

Just as they had at Extreme Rules and SmackDown, the three of them fist-bumped and Seth and Roman headed back up the stairs, leaving Dean by himself, for the moment. Once he too was in the ring, Dean took a moment to bask in the calls of his many fans before the two of us hugged. As we went to commercial, I took the opportunity to mutter in his ear, "Seth and Roman know what to do, right?"

"They're probably behind the curtains now," he murmured back. "Everything's gonna work out, or you're gonna get the shit ripped out of you for trying to cheat. One or the other. Either way, I'm leaving with this belt."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence," I whispered dryly. "I appreciate it."

"Any time, kiddo," he said with a smirk. I would have loved to of continued bickering about this, but suddenly Kofi Kingston's music was blaring and I realised we were back from commercial.

"Introducing the challenger, from Ghana, West Africa, weight two hundred and twelve pounds: _Kofi Kingston_." I knew I was supposed to be appearing neutral, but I couldn't help glaring at Kingston as he climbed into the ring, though I did have to push Dean back firmly to stop him jumping on the other man then and there. As the commentary team discussed Kingston's various accolades over the years, I stepped between the two of them to stop them laying into each other before the bell even rang. Dean handed me his title, which I held in the air for a few seconds before I handed it to a ringside tech and called for the bell.

"Does anyone else think it's a very bad idea for Savannah to be refereeing this match-up?" questioned Cole as the match kicked off.

"What?! No, of course not, Michael, she's doing a fine job!" insisted Lawler.

"The match has only been goin' for thirty seconds, King, she's not had time to do a fine job!" JBL shouted. "This is obviously a plan of The Shield to keep the belt on Ambrose! It's an outrage!"

"Yeah, you said earlier about The Shield's interference in Kofi and Ambrose's match on SmackDown," Lawler said. "You said The Shield had had enough, I think what The Shield thought was that Dean Ambrose had had enough of Kofi Kingston."

"Which makes you wonder if Savannah's position in this match is to ensure the same outcome of last week's match," said Cole.

Shit. It wasn't supposed to be that goddamn obvious! I hadn't even done anything remotely one-sided except hug Dean when he got into the ring. _Fuck all of you_ , I thought sourly. I would _not_ give them any reason to think I was rigging this until the very last moment.

For the better part of the rest of the match, I kept it completely even. I didn't fast count Dean's pins and I didn't slow count Kingston's attempts either. Every so often I could see Dean shooting me little annoyed glances, usually when I didn't count his pin fast enough, but I ignored him. I'd never said anything about making it that noticeable.

However, it was around seven minutes into the match when I finally saw my opening. Dean had gone skittering out of the ring after yet another pin attempt from Kofi. Kingston had followed him and, once he'd stepped onto the apron, Dean had swiped the man's legs out from underneath him and caused him to fall, smashing his face into the steel steps. I held my arm out towards the ramp and crooked my fingers in a 'come here' gesture. A few seconds later, and Roman and Seth came running, their tag belts around their waists.

"What is this?!" yelled JBL. "I told you that this was all a plot by The Shield to make sure Ambrose didn't lose! This is an insult to the title!"

"Stop, stop, stop!" I shouted to Roman and Seth, who skidded to a halt just by the apron as I saw Dean drag Kingston's half unconscious form back into the ring. If I could make this a clean finish, I would.

Dean dragged Kofi to his feet, wrapping an arm around his neck and yelled, "Justice!" before falling forward and planting Kingston face-first into the mat with a headlock driver. He went for the pin immediately, and I scrambled to count it.

One!

Two!

Three!

I called for the bell. Our music played.

"The winner of this match, and _still_ United States Champion, _Dean Ambrose_!" announced Justin as I pulled Dean off Kofi and into a tight hug.

"Good going, bro," I said happily.

"Thanks for the back-up, S," he said as we released each other and I went to fetch his belt from the time-keeper. When I turned back to the ring, Seth and Roman were there too, own belts in hand. I quickly handed Dean his and slipped in between him and Seth, raising his arm in the air as the three of them held up their titles to the camera.

"Look who has joined Ambrose and Jordan in the ring for the celebration," "The tag team champions who it appeared Savannah attempted to allow interfere in Ambrose's match. Reigns on your left, Rollins on the right. The United States champion Ambrose in between Reigns and Jordan, who won't be cleared for competition for two more weeks."

"We're back to where we left off last week, guys." JBL sounded incensed.

Abruptly, though, our music suddenly cut off, leaving the four of us in the ring - and everyone else in the room - highly confused.

"STOP! All of you, stop what you're doing right now!" Oh for fuck sake, really? I dropped Dean's arm and looked up the ramp to see Maddox standing there, mic in hand, looking comically pissed off. "Savannah Jordan, get out of that ring this instant!"

I gestured to a tech to hand me a mic. He passed me one through the ropes and I turned to face Maddox, my face impassive. "Why? What the hell have I done?!"

"What did we agree earlier, Savannah?!" he squawked. "Please, tell everyone! What did we agree?!"

"Er, I think most of them already know given you insisted our conversation be live on the pre-show," I informed.

"Savannah!"

"Oh my God, alright!" I exclaimed exasperatedly, rolling my eyes. "You said I couldn't interfere with the championship matches."

"And what have you just done?! Or rather, attempted to do?"

"Hey, you said _I_ couldn't interfere!" I reminded him. "You didn't say anything about Roman and Seth!"

"It's the principle!" he shouted, his voice increasing by about six octaves. "You deliberately went against my orders! I told you that would not go unpunished!"

"So punish me!" I exclaimed, my tone bored. "I don't know if you're aware, but I do have another match to ref in like, two minutes."

"Oh no you do not!" Maddox's face was so red I honestly thought his head was going to explode. "As general manager, I hereby revoke your referee privileges!"

"Listen here, you tie-wearing hack-!" Dean snarled, taking a couple of steps forward - as did Seth and Roman - but I held my arms out to block them.

"Boys, don't! I've got this," I said sharply, and they backed off. "What do you mean, revoking?! What the hell am I supposed to do now?!"

"As of this moment, you are being relegated to the commentary table!" Maddox announced. "Enjoy the rest of your evening, Hounds." And with that, he turned around and disappeared behind the LED board.

"What?" shrieked JBL. "He cannot be serious! She is not sittin' with me!"

"Oh suck it up, John, I'm not sitting with you anyway," I said scornfully, tossing my mic down in anger and exiting the ring with Dean, who stood down on the bottom rope and pushed up the middle one to allow me to exit the ring with grace.

"Yeah, come sit next to me, Savannah!" Lawler said excitedly, gesturing at the empty chair that had just been placed next to him

"Oh, I would love to, King," I said with a giggle, collapsing into the leather and pulling a headset on. "There's absolutely nothing more I'd rather do."

* * *

"We are back live on Monday Night Raw, WWE Tag Team Championship match," said Cole some ten minutes later as we returned from break. The match had been very even, and I was on the edge of my seat the whole time.

"Roman, come on!" I called, in spite of our personal situation.

"Now, Savannah, allow me to ask you a question," Cole piped up.

"Anything for you, Michael," I said sweetly.

"There has been a lot of tension between you and Roman since your debut here in April, tension that appears to have only gotten stronger." Cole was struggling to be heard over the many "YES" chants filling the arena. "What is it about him that seems to really rub you up the wrong way."

"You know, I'm really starting to get fed up of people asking me what my deal is with Roman Reigns," I said icily. "Honestly, why is it anyone's business?"

The question put him out a little. "Well, it's just that, as a unit, you four gel seamlessly together, and yet the cracks between you and Roman are still visible."

"And? Do we let it affect our ring work?" I asked rhetorically. "No. Has it cost us a match? No. Maybe if people tried focusing on the other aspects of The Shield, such as our dominance, then maybe you wouldn't all be so obsessed with Roman and I. Go on, pin, pin!" I suddenly screamed as Roman hooked Daniel's leg, though he kicked out at two.

"And yet you continue to cheer for him," JBL slyly inserted. "Why is that?"

I shrugged. "Because regardless of personal problems, he's still my brother. I support all of them equally."

"Oh, is Daniel Bryan gonna quit here?" questioned Cole, bringing us back to the match. "Will he tap out?"

"Hey, hey, hey, look at- look at Daniel Bryan!" said Lawler as the _former_ tag team champion managed to escape from Seth's surfboard hold.

"If he knows what's good for him, he would have," I said smugly, crossing my arms. "My boys have utterly decimated Hell No in recent weeks. I don't even know why they keep coming back for a fight."

"Ah yes, lately you have taken to referring to Ambrose, Rollins and Reigns as 'your boys,' even going as far to name yourself the 'Siren of The Shield.' Why is that? Do you consider yourself the leader of The Shield?" Would Cole's barrage of questions ever stop?

"Oh God no," I snorted. "Little ol' me bossing around the three of them? Like I said earlier, they don't follow anyone. _I_ don't follow anyone."

"And yet they listened to you not long ago, during your confrontation with Brad Maddox," said JBL. "Seems a little strange, don't you think?"

"Oh, shut up, JBL," I said exasperatedly. "Do you get off on attempting to torment me? Is that what this is? Weirdo."

"What?! How dare you! I'm just asking a question!" he said defensively.

"Well to answer said question, maybe I do have more hold over them than anyone else in the company," I replied. "That's not my fault. I've always been more powerful than most people, that's why I'm the best woman in this company. Learn to live with it, because I'm gonna be in WWE for a very, very long time."

"Is that your way of putting the Divas locker room on notice?" Lawler inquired.

I shook my head. "No, because I put them on notice the second I walked through the doors in April. I'm the Scarlet Vixen of WWE, the Siren of The Shield. I've been the best in the game for years. I don't need Kaitlyn's belt to prove that."

"You are, of course, referring to the match at Extreme Rules which put you out of action for the last week, and tonight," said Cole.

"I am," I confirmed frostily. "Though I'd rather not be reminded of that. My nose is healing well, by the way, thanks for asking." That last comment was pure sarcasm. "I feel sorry for whoever I step into the ring with on my first day back, because I have been training like a hellcat these last few days, and, well...I'd hate to cause anyone some lasting damage. Now, if you will excuse me, gentlemen, I have a faction to manage."

I removed my headset and stood up just as Seth threw Bryan violently into the turnbuckles and moved to stand by the apron, just below Roman. "What the hell are you doing, Red?" he hissed at me, trying to keep his eyes trained on Seth.

"I'm being a good manager, Ro, what does it look like?" I retorted. "I know you're finding it hard, but don't focus on me, focus on Seth trying to tag you back in."

"Shit," he muttered, slapping the hand Seth had extended to him. Seth then held Daniel still to allow Roman to stamp on his chest before the two-toned one joined me at the apron.

"You trying to get us disqualified, Sav?" he quietly joked.

"Of course not, just here for moral support and besides, I couldn't cope with the commentary questions any longer," I said, smiling up at my big brother.

"You guys make up yet?" he asked as we watched Roman drag Bryan around the ring like rag doll.

"Yo, I said I was done with the questions," I said quickly. "Come on, Roman, knock him the hell out!" I shouted aggressively.

"So that's a yes?"

"It's a 'shut up Seth before I deliberately get you disqualified!'" I warned.

"You wouldn't."

I climbed up to stand on the apron next to him, my face set in a challenging stare. "Try me, Two-Face."

"And now we see Savannah up on the apron, apparently arguing with Seth," Cole commented. I just rolled my eyes.

I stayed up there for the rest of the match, Seth tagging Roman out, and the two of us remained in stony silence, not even looking at each other. But as Kane went to pin Seth, Roman was gone, breaking up the pin and causing an all out melee for a few moments. Roman and Bryan traded blows on the outside as Kane incapacitated Seth inside the ring. I really thought it was over for the guys, that Kane would pin Seth, until he and Bryan began arguing themselves and allowed time for Seth to get the hell out of there.

Whatever was being said, Daniel completely ignored it and went running along the edge of the ring and jumped only to be plucked from mid-air by Roman and thrown to the ground. The next thing I knew, Seth had leapt from the top rope and planted Kane with a high knee. A three count later, and that was all she wrote.

"The winners of this match, and _still_ the WWE Tag Team Champions: _The Shield_!"

I vaulted myself over the ropes and into the ring as Seth was handed the belt, wrapping my arms around his waist. Dean and Roman joined us and the three of them embraced. I stepped back and let them all have their moment, letting them take in the cheers. I looked down at the floor and laughed loudly at the crumpled form of Bryan lying there before looking back at the boys, all of whom were yelling smack.

In this moment, I didn't care about my lack of title. I didn't care about my bruised nose or concussion. I didn't even care about my fucked up head regarding Roman. I could deal with all of that later. These right here were my brothers. My family. I had a good feeling about the coming weeks for us. I didn't know why, given that I was not a very optimistic person, but I knew good things were coming for us.

* * *

 **A/N- Wahey, a pretty quick update for me! I hope you liked it, we're not too many chapters away from Rovannah being launched! I'm so excited! Let me know what you thought, review please! Much love! Xx Gee xX**


	11. Damage Control

**A/N-** **Thanks so much to Shield316 for reviewing!**

* * *

 **Chapter Eleven – Damage Control**

 _ **SavvyAsHellWWE: I would like to formally announce that there is no truth to the article posted by TMZ last night. Seth and I are good friends, nothing more.  
**_ _ **Tweeted 05/28/2013**_ _ **10**_ _ **.48AM**_

Yeah, so it turns out, I was wrong.

I was woken up Tuesday morning by the buzzing of my phone on the nightstand. Letting out a loud moan of exhaustion, I sat up and reached for the phone, rubbing sleep out of my eyes as I did so. "Y'ello?" I yawned as I answered without looking at the caller ID.

"Savannah Rose Jordan, do you have anythin' to tell us?"

I frowned. "Momma? This is a surpri-"

"Don't you 'Momma' me, young lady." Nora's usual soft Texan tones were a lot more hassled than usual. "Let me ask you again, do you have anythin' to tell your father and I?"

"No? Should I?"

"Nothin' about, perhaps, a new boyfriend?"

"What?!" I shrieked, now very much awake. "No! New boyfriend?! Where the hell have you heard that?!"

"From the _very_ charmin' reporter who turned up at the ranch at nine in the goddamn mornin'," she said sarcastically. "He said he worked for TMZ and wanted to get your parents' opinion on this. Annah, how the hell did he know where we live?"

"Momma, I honestly don't know. I mean, you're in my WWE records as my parents and next-of-kin, according to the state of Texas you're my parents, or were, so it's really not that hard to get hold of this kinda stuff. Who the fuck are they saying I'm dating?!"

"Annah, if the story's false then I don't wanna stir the pot no more than it already is."

" _Momma_. Please just tell me."

She sighed. "Seth Rollins, and I gotta say, baby, the pictures they've put with the article are very convincin'." Oh, motherfucker.

"What the fuck, what do you mean, pictures?! What article?!"

"Hun, I'm lookin' at the website right now, you're plastered all over the sports and gossip tabs."

"Shit. _Shit_. When was it published!?"

"Says here last night at about eight PM. Darlin', those scumbags timed it for when Raw went live."

I groaned. "For maximum exposure. Oh God, I have got so much damage control to do today!"

"So just for definite…you're definitely not datin' him?"

"Jesus, Momma, no! The only way I could be more single right now would be if I joined a legit nunnery. I'm basically celibate! I've honestly forgotten what dicks even look like."

"You've always had such a ladylike way with words." I could practically hear her shaking her head.

"Dad don't know about this, does he?" I asked anxiously.

"Not an inklin', baby, he's been on a fishin' trip with Al and Jeremy since Saturday, he won't be back till tonight," Nora assured me.

"Oh thank God," I breathed out. "Don't let him anywhere near the internet until I can fix this, okay? I'm gonna get hold of Seth somehow and we'll get Talent Relations to fire off a rebuttal. Oh fuck, I'm freaking out."

"Annah, it's gonna be okay," she soothed. "Tabloids make up bullshit like this all the damn time, it'll blow over soon enough."

"I really hope so," I muttered, pinching the bridge of my nose. "Thanks for calling, Momma. It's been so nice to hear your voice."

"And yours too, sweetheart. We miss you so much," she said softly.

"I miss you both too, more than anything. Maybe I'll be back in Texas soon," I told her. "I never know where the road's gonna take us."

"I hope so, honey, it's been months since we saw you." Oh great, now Nora just sounded all morose.

"I know, Momma, don't make me feel bad," I said ruefully. "I just can't take time off the minute. It was different when I was in NXT, you guys could come to Florida for a week at a time. But it's been crazy since my debut, what with the shit that went down in London, going after the Divas Championship, breaking my nose and all the boys winning titles. We've barely got time to breathe."

"Talkin' of your boys, I was watchin' Raw last night. You're so proud of them, aren't you?"

I smiled in spite of the situation. "Beyond proud, Momma. We're taking over WWE and it's all on them. They'd been kicking down doors since before I was even in the picture. Sometimes I wonder if they even really need me."

"Of course they do, Annah, why would you even think somethin' like that? You're a credit to The Shield, even without that butterfly belt. I see the way they are with you. They love you, it's obvious. Even the pretty one you spend all your time arguin' with. Roman, is it?"

I groaned loudly for a second time. "For God's sake, not you too. He's not even that pretty." Sometimes my ability to lie out of my ass astounded me.

"You know, if you were gonna date anyone within the company, it should be him. You know what they say, darlin', there's a thin line between love and hate."

"Momma, what the fuck?!" I yelped. "The entire reason you called me is because you were pissed because you thought I was dating within the company, and now you're telling me _to_ date within the company?!"

"No, I was pissed because I thought you'd been hidin' it from me, there's a difference," she said. "Truth be told, your dad and I don't care who you date as long as it ain't that Moxley boy again."

"Trust me, that ship sailed years ago," I muttered. "And his name is Dean, Ma. He only called himself Jon in the Indies, I told you that."

"I'm just sayin'. I don't want you gettin' hurt again, especially not by him. Not after last time."

"Okay, so we're leaving this part of the conversation where it is," I said hastily. "For clarification, I am _not_ dating Seth or Dean, given they are literally like brothers to me, and Hell will freeze over before I date Roman."

"Alright baby, if you say so. I just had to make sure. I'll let you go now, no doubt you've got places to be."

"Not yet. We're leaving for Edmonton at noon," I said. "I love and miss you, Momma. Give my love to Daddy when he gets home. We'll Skype soon."

"Bye-bye, honey. Too right we'll speak soon. I love you too." And with a click, she was gone. Placing my phone back on the nightstand, I reached down beside my bed and grabbed my laptop, logging in and typing TMZ into the search bar.

A few more clicks and I was faced with the big, bold headline of **BREAKING NEWS: FROM** **PAY-PER-VIEW TO DRINKS-FOR-TWO. DOES WWE HAVE A NEW POWER COUPLE?** Below this were two pictures, both taken outside the Starbucks Seth and I had visited yesterday. The first was of Seth with his arm around my shoulder, kissing my temple. The second was of me leaning my head on Seth's shoulder, his arm still around me.

They looked convincing. They looked believable. They looked...real. The article then went on to discuss how Seth and I were often seen in public, just the two of us. An 'inside source' was quoted as saying, " _Seth and Savannah spend almost all their time backstage together, even without the rest of The Shield. It's not like they've told anyone they're together, but look at them. You can see how much they care about each other. It's cute_."

As if to add credibility to the photos, there was a freakily accurate description of what Seth and I had done yesterday, from what time we'd left the hotel together, to going to the tattoo parlour, to stopping for gas, and even what we'd ordered in Starbucks. There were also then two smaller pictures, one of the two of us walking into the tattoo parlour and the other – clearly taken through the window – of me sitting in the chair with Seth holding my hand. The article finished with, " _We'll have more developments as they happen, but this looks promising. After all, the couple that powerbombs together, stays together._ "

I felt sick as I shut the webpage and closed my laptop. This could not be happening. Why in God's name would TMZ be interested in me and Seth?! We were well known, sure, but it wasn't like we were A-list! They should have been reporting whose dick Kim Kardashian was climbing on, not me!

I didn't know how to fix this. It was on the fucking internet, people in fucking Outer Mongolia could see it if they really wanted to! When I signed to WWE, it was so I could wrestle in the most famous company in the world, not to have my name splashed all over skeevy tabloids! At this point, I could only pray that none of the guys had seen it.

Dean probably hadn't, given that the man was so technologically backwards I doubted he knew what the internet was, Roman wouldn't care whatever, and I wanted to be the one to break this to Seth, given that we were gonna have a lot of explaining to do. It was him I'd need to deal with first. I was sure his room was on the floor above mine, either 106 or 107. Guess it was time to give the ninja a wake up call.

In too much of a hurry to get dressed properly or put on makeup, I just grabbed my Stitch-shaped hoodie from the couch (turned out I'd remembered something warm after all) and threw it on over the top of my Disney Princess PJs, stepping into my _Nightmare Before Christmas_ slipper boots. I was literally three steps away from the door when there was a heavy knock at it. Eyebrows furrowed in confusion, I stepped forward and opened it to reveal…

"Roman?" Now I was even more confused. He quirked a brow at my attire but said nothing, instead stepping past me to stand in the middle of the room. "Sure, you can come in, thanks for asking," I said acerbically. "Good morning to you too."

"Morning," he muttered. I was about to ask what he was doing in my room when he just launched straight into it. "Okay, I get you've got some huge problem with me, and one hell of a fucked up past with Ambrose, but we're still a team. The last time I checked, teams don't hide this kind of shit from each other."

I closed my eyes and heaved a sigh. "Oh." I drew out the sound as an annoyed moan. "You've seen the article."

"It's all over fucking Twitter, Sav, I'd have to be pretty blind not to!" he spat. "So how long?"

I stared at him with a hard expression. "How long what?"

"Don't play games. How long have you and Seth been seeing each other? A week, a month? Since you got here?"

"Are you being fucking serious, Reigns?! Seth and I aren't together, are you kidding me!?" I burst out. "It's just a stupid website blowing something way outta proportion, as usual!"

"I saw the pictures. You don't need to lie. But just let me ask this: when you told him about how fucked up your childhood was, did you bite his head off when he tried to ask about it too?"

My hands began to shake with supressed fury, so I curled them into fists at my sides before I smacked the fillings out of his mouth. "You need to watch your mouth," I said through gritted teeth. "He doesn't know anything about my childhood because – and let me reiterate this – Seth and I _are not dating_ , okay?!"

"Are you trying to spare my feelings or something?" he demanded, starting to pace around the room. "Because trust me, Red, you really don't need to. I'm not bothered, I just don't like being lied to."

"Really? Because it sure seems like you're bothered."

"I'm not."

"So why come down here to confront me?" I challenged.

"Because…Seth's a good guy. I can see why you'd date him."

"Yeah, and that would be all well and good if, you know, I was actually dating him. Which I'm not. I don't know how to make that any clearer." I peered at him. "Roman, are you _jealous_?!"

He snorted. "That's cute. No, Sav, I'm not jealous. I just want answers."

"I gave you your fucking answer!"

"It wasn't exactly a solid one." He was struggling to keep his temper, I could tell.

"I have literally said no about four times! What more do you want from me?!" I was 0.8 seconds away from losing my shit. And apparently, so was Roman.

"I want the truth!" he yelled, and in his anger he swung his leg out and kicked the side of my suitcase, which wouldn't have bothered me in the slightest…if the sound of something vibrating hadn't started to emanate from within. Okay, really?!

Roman stopped shouting, I stopped breathing, and we both turned to look at the suitcase. My face went so red you probably could have fried an egg on it. Sure, a little of the tension had now been diffused, but it so was not worth this. I closed my eyes again and rubbed at the bridge of my nose. This really could only happen to me.

"You, er, gonna get that?" Roman asked dryly, a hint of a smirk on his lips.

"Um…yeah, I…yeah..." I mumbled shamefacedly, quickly rummaging around in the clothes and shoes bundled up in the case until I finally managed to find the bright pink plastic of my Rampant Rabbit. I quickly shut it off and hid it back under a few t-shirts, keeping my back to Roman at all times so he wouldn't see it. I officially wanted to die.

"Anyway." I re-adopted my icy tones from moments before. "Do you wanna continue to scream at me over some completely false information, or have you finally got this into your thick skull? Your call."

He paused for a moment, then shrugged. "So there's really nothing going on with you and Seth?"

I shook my head. "No, Roman. Seth and I are both very much single. Even if we weren't, there is no reason for _you_ of all people to act like this. It's a bit double standard for you to flirt with any pretty woman Dean points you to, but the second it looks like I'm possibly getting some action then suddenly World War Three hits?"

"So you were pissed off by the waitress flirting with me."

"For fuck sake, do we really need to keep bringing that up?" I rolled my eyes with a scoff. "Let it the fuck go. Let the TMZ article go. Just leave me alone!"

"Fine. I'll leave you alone. I've got shit to do before we leave for Edmonton."

"So are we done here?"

Roman nodded, already beginning to head for the door. "Yeah. We're done here," he coldly said without looking back at me, which was followed by him leaving the room and slamming the door behind him. I raked a hand through my hair and held back the urge to throw a punch at the wall.

Talk about uncalled for! What right did Roman have to come storming into _my_ hotel room and start throwing around accusations about my relationship status?! So what if the article was true and Seth and I really had been dating?! It would have been none of his business whatsoever! The hypocrisy was unreal.

"Fuck you, Roman," I muttered. If I wanted to fuck Seth, I would. I'd fuck him in every position under the sun if I felt like it! Not that I did actually want to, mind, given that I loved Seth like a brother and to see him any other way made me feel super uncomfortable. Still, my point was clear.

Oh shit. Seth. Of course, that was the entire damn reason I'd been about to leave the room in the first place. Roman had thrown my head into complete disarray.

 _Can you meet me in the lobby? We really need to talk. X_ I sent a quick text to Seth, figuring I would now take the time to get dressed since I just had to get out of this hotel.

 _ **Yeah, we really do. See you down there in ten. X**_

* * *

"I feel like literally everyone is staring at us," I mumbled as Seth and I walked down the street, heading for a low-key café where we could talk with no one listening in. Both of us were wearing sunglasses, inconspicuous clothes (if you ignored the fact I was wearing bright gold-coloured sneakers) and Seth had his two-toned hair hidden under a snapback.

"You're being paranoid," he told me.

"Am I? If we're seen alone together again then it's gonna confirm everything that fucking website said. Forgive me for not wanting that."

"You've really got that much of a problem with people thinking we're dating?" Seth lightly teased, going to link his arm through mine. "Savvy, I'm hurt."

"Get off!" I hissed, shaking my arm away and elbowing him in the ribs. "Is this a fucking joke to you?! This is serious, Seth!"

"I'm not saying it isn't. But we may as well try to have a laugh with it," he said, holding open the café door for me. "We'll get this sorted out."

"How?" I said disparagingly, taking a seat at a two-person table in the darkest, most secluded area of the café and removing my white jean jacket to place t over the back of my chair. "This is plastered all over Twitter, Facebook, Instagram, Tumblr. Oh God, the Tumblr posts are relentless. Shippers are fucking insane. I love you, Seth, you know I do, but 'us'-" I made quotation marks in the air with my fingers. "-could never happen in a million fucking years."

"Sav, chill. I love you too but being honest, I'm more of a 'feisty pierced brunette' kind of guy," he said, sitting opposite me with his back to the window. "Not that I don't think you're attractive too."

"Much appreciated," I said dryly, before burying my head in my hands "Have you heard anything from Dean?"

"He was with me when I found the story, actually. We were in the dining room," Seth admitted. "And honestly, I couldn't tell if he was disgusted or trying not to laugh."

"Oh, that's encouraging. Not. Well, I had Roman in my room this morning, practically turning purple, he was so pissed off. Of all the things I expected to argue with him about today, you and I potentially dating was not one of them."

" _Roman_ was pissed off?" Seth repeated disbelievingly. Then he grinned impishly at me. "That's interesting."

"Do not even go there right now, Seth," I warned, pointing accusingly at him. "Don't even fuckin' think about it."

"I didn't say anything!" he said indignantly, but the grin was still there.

"I will knock that grin clean off your face in a minute. Look, we've gotta talk to Carrano," I said, anxiously tapping my nails against the nylon tablecloth. "He'll be able to release a statement completely shutting down the story."

"Are you sure you wanna do that?" Seth asked. "Surely that's just gonna bring more attention to the story?"

"If you've got a better idea then I'd really like to hear it," I said desperately. "Or do you want everyone thinking we're dating? Because I really _don't_. Again, no offense, but I'm hardly gonna be able to find myself a man if people think I'm cheating on your scary-lookin' ass."

"Oh yeah, _I'm_ the scary one here. Out of the two of us, who put five people in the hospital over the course of one year in the Indies?"

"…Not the point. What I'm saying is that it's not good for either of our reputations to let this little rumour spread any further."

"I guess you're right," he said. "So what do you wanna do? Call Carrano when we get back to the hotel or wait until we get to SmackDown?"

I tapped my chin in thought. "We may as well wait until we can talk to him face-to-face. We're leaving here at twelve so we should be in Edmonton by about three-ish. That'll give us plenty of time to straighten this all out." I paused for a second, then added, "You know we can't arrive together, right?"

"What? Why?" He frowned at me.

"Seth, we can't! Do you know what that will look like?! Oh yeah, it'll look _exactly what we're trying to deny_. Are you totally stupid?!"

Seth looked completely taken aback. "Holy shit, Savannah, take it down a notch!"

The use of my full name brought me up short. Seth never called me Savannah outside of the ring. Fuck, I must have really offended him. "Seth, I'm sorry, I- I didn't mean it like that. It came out wrong. I'm just so stressed about this whole thing. I swear, if I didn't have hair extensions I'd be bald right about now."

"I know, it's fine," he said, though he sound far from it. Maybe the 'stupid' comment had been a bit too much.

"Hey, can I get you guys' orders?" A friendly enough-looking waiter suddenly appeared at the table and I let out a squeak of surprise, turning my head to face away from him so violently I almost dislocated my neck. _Don't recognize us, don't recognize us, don't recognize us…_

"Thanks man, I'll have a cheeseburger and a root beer," Seth said cheerfully. "Do you want anything, Sa- Rose?" Smooth cover, asshole.

"Just a chocolate milkshake, please," I mumbled, still not looking at the waiter.

"That was subtle," Seth commented once the waiter had disappeared.

"Says the guy who almost called me Sav. Inconspicuous, remember?!"

"We're wearing sunglasses inside, we left 'inconspicuous' at the door. You may want to get yourself tested for anxiety, you know that?"

"Can we please just get back to working out what we're gonna do about getting to Edmonton?" I said peevishly.

"Well what do you wanna do? Ride with Roman?"

"Nooope!" I said quickly, shaking my head. "After the way he acted this morning I don't want to be anywhere _near_ Roman unless it's absolutely necessary."

"What else can you do? We've only got two cars."

"Yeah, but I think you're forgetting that we also have an extra member of The Shield."

* * *

"Why the fuck have you got one of Callihan's shirts?" Dean asked me as we packed our bags into the back of the car Seth and I had used yesterday.

I shrugged, admiring my red _Sami Callihan: Bestest in the World_ t-shirt in the window reflection. "I miss him sometimes. He was our best friend at one point, remember? Besides, he sent me this for my twenty-fifth back in January as a joke. Did you know there was a lot of talk of him getting signed to NXT just before I left?"

"What? No. That'd be awesome, there could be a lil' Switchblade reunion in the future," he said contemplatively, slamming the trunk shut.

"Yeah, that'd be a great idea," I snorted. "Especially with the whole PG thing. We were practically NC-17 on our worst days, Deano, somehow I don't see the Switchblade Conspiracy and WWE being a good mix. Let's leave it in CZW."

"Killjoy."

"Realist, actually."

"I'm starting to see why neither Seth or Roman wanted to ride with you."

"Hey!" I gave him a shove. "Mean! I can't be dealing with Roman's shit and I don't want to arrive with Seth because people are gonna talk. Congrats, you get to be my chauffeur."

"Y'all want me to play some Beyoncé?" he joked as he climbed into the driver's seat while I took the passenger side.

"Oh my God, Dean, did you just paraphrase _Spring Breakers_ of all movies?" I laughed. "That is _so_ unmanly!"

"It's a movie literally entirely about tits, ass, drinking and drugs. Find me a manlier chick flick, I dare you," he said gruffly, turning the car out of the lot and getting us on our way to Edmonton.

"I...can't actually deny your logic," I admitted.

As the drive went on, I realised carpooling with Dean was the best decision I'd made in the last week. The two of us cracked jokes, reminisced about the old days, stopped for a Burger King and sang along obnoxiously loudly to AC/DC, Kiss, Nirvana, Bon Jovi and Metallica classics. All in all, after three and a half hours of that, I was in a great mood by the time we got to Edmonton.

"And I walk these streets! A loaded six string on my baaack!" I shouted as the Rexall Place came into view.

"I play for keeps, 'cause I might not make it back!" Dean's Bon Jovi impression was spot on, I had to admit.

"I've been everywhere, and still I'm standing tall! I've seen a million faces and I've rocked them all!" I tried mimicking Dean's gruffness but almost choked on my own voice.

"'Cause I'm a cowboy, on a steel horse I riiide!" he sang through his laughter. "I'm wanted-"

"Waaaanted!" I echoed.

"Dead or aliiiive," we harmonized, collapsing into unintelligent guffaws, pulling up at the arena.

Seth and Roman had clearly beaten us here, as we managed to pull into a parking spot right next to theirs. We were still laughing as we got out of the car, deciding to leave our luggage behind since we'd be heading straight to the airport after the taping.

"We never got to _Shot Through The Heart_ ," I pouted. "Not fair."

"Aw, my condolences that the poor princess didn't get what she wanted," Dean jokingly derided.

"Princess? You're having a fucking laugh, right?" I couldn't help snorting. "I grew up on a farm before I got put in care, then I lived in six different foster homes, then on a ranch. Oh, and let's not forget the studio apartment I had in Philadelphia that always turned an attractive shade of mould in the summer. I think a princess is the one thing I will never be accused of being."

"Oh, I'm sorry. In that case, yee-fuckin'-hah," he said sarcastically. "So you're the horse-ridin', tree-climbin', kiss-blowin', line-dancin' son of a gun?"

"Daughter, technically, and I'd say daughter of a dickhead. But hey, me knowing how to ride a horse benefited you in more ways than one, if I recall," I pointed out.

"Damn. Can't argue with that," he chuckled.

"Of course you can't," I said smugly. "Savannah Jordan, Dean Ambrose," I added to the security guard sitting by the door. He nodded us through and we began to navigate our way through the corridors in an attempt to find our dressing room. We were relatively early, so there weren't all that many people around. Sure, we saw the occasional backstage worker or Superstar but otherwise it was just the ring crew hanging around. Eventually, we located our room.

"Seriously though, I'll never forget the look on your face when I picked up that screwdriver!" Dean was chortling when he pushed open the door,

"Yo, fuck you, man!" I snickered, lightly shoving him. "You'd just jammed a handful of thumbtacks into my thigh, I wouldn't have put it past you to stab me at that point!"

"Hey, you guys took your time," Seth piped up from the corner of the room.

"Deano wanted to get some food so we made a pit stop," I replied, tossing the plastic bag containing my valet gear down on a bench. "You wanna start blaming people, it's him. He ordered three burgers. _Three_. Who does that?"

"A man who didn't get a chance to eat much breakfast on account of a certain two-toned dickhead dragging him away from the breakfast room to freak the fuck out about TMZ articles," Dean said slyly.

"Thanks Ambrose, like we needed the reminder," Seth grumbled, removing his hoodie and pulling on his black t-shirt.

"Hey, at least I believed it was bullshit," Dean said defensively. "Unlike some people. Not naming names, of course."

"Fuck you, Dean," Roman mumbled, flipping him the bird, which Dean happily returned.

"Oh, that reminds me, actually," said Seth, turning to the Samoan. "Don't you have something you wanted to say to Sav?"

Roman quirked a brow. "You're seriously gonna make me do this?"

"You're the one who said you felt bad."

"Yeah, but that doesn't mean-"

"Roman."

"Fine!" He heaved a sigh. "Sav, I'm sorry for this morning. I was outta line."

"Yes you were," I agreed. "I appreciate the apology though. It probably goes without saying that of course I don't forgive you."

"Thanks, Sav, I- wait, what?"

I snorted. "Seriously, Roman? You come into my hotel room at stupid o'clock in the morning and proceed to harass me, and what? I'm supposed to be okay with that?"

"I was kinda hoping, yeah. You don't need to make this more difficult."

"Sure I do. It's kinda my thing, haven't you noticed?" I said with a cocky grin.

"Er, Sav, as much as I hate to interrupt this...no, wait, I don't," Seth butted in. "But I called Carrano on the way here. We've got our meeting in five minutes."

"Oh shit, really?" Seth nodded at me. "Goddamn it. I'll have to get my gear on later. You know, Sethie, it would have been great for you to open with that little informative titbit. Just sayin'."

* * *

"-and so I really can't emphasize how sorry we are to have embarrassed the company this way. There is no truth to the story, it's probably just some intern thinking they've got their first big scoop. Is there anyway for us to file a retraction?" I honestly don't think I'd stopped speaking since Seth and I had arrived at Carrano's office. The head of Talent Relations had welcomed us inside, sat us down, offered us water then asked us what the hell was going on. That was when I'd let rip, barely allowing Seth to get a word in edge ways.

Mark sighed. "I'm not going to sugarcoat it. This story has garnered a lot of attention in a very short space of time."

"So what are you saying?" asked Seth. "We can't deny it?"

"Oh no, I'm happy to release an official statement via the WWE website disproving the whole thing," Mark replied. "But you need to be prepared for the fact this may not go away for a while. You know, two high profile athletes such as yourselves appearing on such a well-known website won't just go away instantly."

I nodded. "We understand that. We just want everyone to know how false it is. I love Seth to pieces but I would rather hit The Rock with a cactus than date this man."

"Is there no other way you could have phrased that?" Seth turned his body in his chair to look at me, eyebrow raised. "Maybe, I don't know, a little more politely?"

"I just wanted to get my point across," I said sulkily.

"I think you did that very effectively," he said with a roll of his eyes.

"If I could just cut in here," Carrano said tactfully. "I'll speak to the head of Social Media Relations and we can have the statement issued as soon as tonight's taping is over."

"Oh thank God." I breathed a huge sigh of relief, as did Seth. "We appreciate this so much, I can't even tell you."

"Do you need any quotes from us at all?" Seth asked.

"No, I think Savannah has given us more than enough details to deny this 's been very, er, vocal."

"That's our Sav, never one to lower the tone." There was a slight edge of offense to Seth's voice but at this point in time, I...honestly didn't care. He was a big boy, he'd get over it.

"Now, if that's all you wanted to talk about then there is something I need to be getting to," said Carrano, standing up. "Actually Savannah, I'll need to borrow you for this. Seth, you're free to go."

"Thank you, sir," Seth said gratefully, shaking Mark's hand. "See you in a few, Sav."

"You know it, brother," I said with a smile as he left the room. "So, Marky Mark, what's going on? Is it a surprise? I don't like surprises."

"Oh, I think you're going to like this one," he assured me. "Follow me, we've got a meeting."

"Holy shit," I gasped out five minutes later, holding the white t-shirt out in front of me. "This is- this is really mine?"

"It is," Joe, the merchandise manager, confirmed. "Fans have literally been begging for Savannah merch, and who are we to deny them? We have a feeling these are gonna be hot sellers as soon as they hit WWE Shop."

"I _adore_ it," I said, hardly believing my luck. The t-shirt I was holding was pure, brilliant white. The front had LET ME HEAR YOUR WAR CRY written in a medieval-style font, deep purple with a thick black outline. LET ME was curved above the straight HEAR YOUR, and WAR CRY was curved beneath that. Below the writing was a black pair of lips with a white skull and crossbones pressed into the left side. The same design was on the back, with SAVANNAH above the lips in that same medieval writing, and the whole print was styled to look distressed.

"So, this style and the undistressed grey style will go on sale first, along with the tank tops," Joe explained. "We'll get them online by the end of the week, we'll see what the reception is and hopefully in the next few months we can look at expanding your brand. Yours and The Shield's."

"Oh my God, really? That's great! I'm literally in love," I said ecstatically, hugging the t-shirt to my chest. "Thank you so much."

"Don't mention it. I mean, it is my job," Joe joked. "Feel free to keep that one, see if Sandra can whip it into a gear overlay for you."

"It wouldn't be so much a gear overlay as just a shirt for tonight," I mumbled. "I'm still not cleared for competition for another week."

"How is the nose, by the way?" he asked sympathetically.

I tapped at the bridge, mindful not to do it too hard. "Almost there. The bruising is nearly gone and I've stopped getting headaches every half hour so things are on the up."

"Not too long till you're back kicking ass and taking names, then."

"Hell yeah. Let's just say whoever steps into that ring with me my first day back had better be packing a first aid kit."

* * *

"I got merch! I got merch!" I sang, bursting through the changing room door with a flourish. "Guys! Look! I got merch! Actual merch!"

"We heard you the first time," muttered Roman, and I shot him the finger.

"I'm excited. Shut up. Check it out!" I placed the newly-modified shirt on a bench for all to see. A quick trip to Sandra and what had once been a basic t-shirt was now a crop top with cut-outs in the shoulders. "It's fucking epic, right?"

"This is sweet," Seth said, running his finger over the wording. "Looks like something good came out of today after all."

"The only thing that would make it better would be if I actually had a match tonight. Oh, that reminds me. Your matches got rejigged. We're now opening tonight, Carrano told me. You and Kane, Seth, and Roman, you've got everyone's favourite bearded wonder. Deano, congrats, you're main eventing against Orton."

"Hell, looks like there's gonna be some justice served up tonight," Dean growled.

"What I don't understand is why in the fuck Kane and Bryan can't just leave us alone," I said, frowning. "They've had what, two rematches since Extreme Rules? They lost the titles, they're not getting the titles back. They need to man up and back off."

"Don't worry, Sav, we've got this," Seth said confidently.

"I'm not doubting that," I replied. "I just want tonight to be the fucking end of it. I don't want to step into the ring next week with the fear of getting jumped by a demon, a goat or a snake."

"Still on manager duty tonight, then?" Roman asked.

I nodded with a snort. "Yup. Somehow I doubt I'll be asked to ref again any time soon. I'm getting a check-up at the weekend, so here's to hoping they clear me. I want my proper gear back." I poked the plastic bag containing tonight's clothes with disdain. Because I wasn't supposed to be exerting myself, along with my new t-shirt I'd been given some ripped black jeans and bone-print heeled boots. I hated wearing heels. Hated it. The only exceptions were if I had somewhere fancy to be, or the odd times – like now or WrestleMania – where I had to wear them to the ring. Other than that, I was strictly a Converse/cowboy boots/high-tops/combat boots kind of girl.

"You look so excited to be doing this too," commented Dean.

"Yeah, because I'm totally stoked to have to stand outside the ring while you three get to layeth the smackdown," I retorted as I tore the bag open. "It's been so long since I've had a match that I'm probably getting ring rust. God, that suicide dive was not worth this."

"Well hey, at least it looked cool," Seth attempted to comfort me.

I gave him a small smile, allowing him to loop his arm around me. "It did look pretty cool, didn't it?" He pulled me forward into a hug, and I returned it with a laugh.

"…and you guys are sure you're not dating? Looking awfully cute there," Dean mischievously put in.

"Oh for fuck sake." I removed my arms from around Seth and placed my hands on his chest. I shoved with all my might which caused the two-toned one to trip over his duffle bag and land in sprawled heap on the floor.

"What the fuck, Sav?!" he yelped, but instead I turned to Dean and pointed at Seth's crumpled form.

"Would a girlfriend do that?"

* * *

"I'm sorry."

"It's fine."

"I didn't think it'd bruise that quickly."

"Sav, it's fine."

"...at least the t-shirt covers it."

"Sav."

"I'll be quiet now."

We were waiting by the stair doors to kick off SmackDown, watching the opening vignette for the show. It was dedicated to The Shield's reign of power over the last week or so and looked so badass; a montage of clips ranging from beating down Randy Orton, Kofi Kingston, Sheamus and Hell No, plus the boys holding their belts at Extreme Rules, setting the scene for tonight.

I was also attempting to apologise to Seth. When I'd pushed him, I hadn't banked on him hitting his shoulder on the foot of a bench. A very purple bruise had formed in a matter of seconds and now I felt kind of bad.

"As sweet as this is, we need to focus," Roman cut in, looking as sullen as usual.

"Relax Reigns, you've got this," I said breezily. "At this stage, ploughing through Kane and Bryan should be second nature."

"Not the point," he argued, and pointed at my nose. "Look what happened when you got cocky."

"Okay, ease up," I snapped. "I was just trying to help." I was sure we were about to launch into Roman vs Savannah Episode 7356, but thankfully, our music started to play on the other side of the door. All three boys hoisted their titles over their shoulders as we filed out into the arena, me leading, Roman and Seth flanking me and Dean bringing up the rear. With any luck, this would be the last time I walked down to the ring without my own match on the card.

We paused halfway down the stairs just before the bell rang, and I reached out and ruffled the hair of a little blonde girl who was holding a sign that read CANADA BELIEVES IN THE SHIELD. She looked like she was about to pass out from sheer happiness. Dean, meanwhile, had fist-bumped both Roman and Seth before making his way back up the stairs; he wanted to keep himself out of the way until his own match later on.

"The following match is scheduled for one fall!" announced Lilian Garcia. "Introducing first - being accompanied by one half of the WWE Tag Team Champions, Roman Reigns, and Savannah Jordan - representing The Shield, weighing in at two hundred and seventeen pounds, he is the other half of the WWE Tag Team Champions: _Seth Rollins_!"

I stepped aside once we reached the barricade to allow Seth and Roman to go over before me. They then each took hold of one of my hands and lifted me to help me clear the barrier easily in my heels. I stepped up onto the padding and leapt down, bending my knees and straightening up, whipping my hair back and smirking at them both when they dropped my hands.

"Hello again everybody, and welcome to Friday Night SmackDown," introduced Michael Cole. "Michael Cole and JBL at ringside as we get set for one-on-one action. Rollins will kick things off for the Tag Team Champions."

"The Shield has done everything they said they were gonna do, and they continued that," said JBL. "And once Savannah steps back into the ring that dominance will continue within the Divas Division."

I was actually stepping into the ring now, following Seth and Roman. I stood in between them and raised their arms up whilst they lifted up their tag belts with their other hands. I fucking _dared_ someone to say they weren't fighting champions while I was around. Roman reached around me to pat Seth on the chest when pyro exploded at the top of the ramp, announcing the arrival of Team Hell No.

I snapped my fingers at Lilian over the top rope, gesturing for her to hand me her microphone. She did, but very hesitantly. "Aaaand his opponent!" I declared. "Being accompanied by the world's first ever human/goat hybrid, representing the _former_ WWE Tag Team Champions Team Hell No, and weighing in at some ungodly weight: _Kane_!" Because when in doubt, piss of the opposition.

I tossed Lilian her mic back and joined Seth and Roman, who had backed up into the corner of the ring. Daniel and Kane both looked at us, looks that very clearly read 'get out. Now.' I crossed my arms and pouted at them. "We ain't moving. Sorry boys."

In response, Kane lifted his arms up before swinging them down, causing fire to explode from the ringposts. The noise startled the three of us so much that we dropped to our knees and did proceed to roll out of the ring. All of us had lifted our hands to our hair to check it was still there and that the pyro hadn't singed any of it off. With the amount of hairspray I had on to hold my backcombed bun in place, my entire head probably would have been engulfed in flames.

The ref gestured for Seth to get back in the ring. Seth handed me his belt - which I sat over my shoulder - and did so, climbing up to the apron and vaulting himself over the top rope. The bell rung, the two men locked up and the game was on.

Unfortunately, Kane got the upper hand very, very quickly, gaining two pinfall attempts in little over a minute. Roman and I did nothing except from stand in our corner, either side of the ring post, watching intensely. There was nothing else we could do. I wasn't about to attempt another DQ, hell no, no pun intended.

However, things soon started to look up. Seth managed to deliver two sharp kicks to Kane's thigh which sent the Big Red Machine down to the mat. Seth soon started targeting that leg, jumping on it once he'd balanced it on the middle rope, twisting it, standing on it. Kane fought back and kicked Seth clean into the opposite turnbuckles. Somehow, Seth then ended up sitting on the top rope with Kane's hand around his throat, going for a chokeslam. Thankfully, Seth managed to fight him off and kicked him away before spiking him with an elevated DDT.

"Seth, come on!" I called out. "You've got this!"

"And there you hear encouragement being called by Savannah," Cole said behind me. "You know, John, I'm actually a little surprised to see Savannah out here at the same time as Seth tonight."

"I assume you're referring to the rumour about the two of them that's floating around the internet, Michael," said JBL. "What do you think? Is it possible the two of them may be dating?"

"Well...honestly, it doesn't seem like a stretch," Cole admitted. "We've seen the two of them together in the ring, we've all seen the, er, 'proof' TMZ supposedly gathered. However, Savannah sent out a Tweet early this morning denying the entire story, as did Seth. So it would appear that the rumour is just that: a rumour."

I slowly turned away from the ring to glare at the announcers table. "Can we shut up about crappy stories and just focus on the wrestling?!" I screamed at them, and to say it looked like they almost shit themselves would be an understatement. We went to commercial not too long after that and nothing of note really happened. Seth was just focusing on keeping Kane down, continuing to damage Kane's left leg in hopes of keeping the demon down.

Roman and I had kept to ourselves the whole time, doing nothing but keeping to ourselves and shouting encouragement. That is, until Kane scooped up Seth and slammed him with a sidewalk slam. He'd gone for the pin but Seth was able to get his shoulder up at two.

I panicked. If Seth stayed down any longer, Kane would go to pin him again and it would be over. I don't know what possessed me to do this, but I dropped Seth's belt, grabbed hold of the middle rope and hoisted myself up onto the apron, scowling at Kane.

"Come on, get up," Roman was saying. "Bro, get- Sav, what the hell are you doing?!"

I ignored him and instead shouted, "Yo Kane! Over here, you demonic jester-lookin' freak!" I only wanted to distract him, to buy Seth a little more time to recover. I definitely didn't expect him to skulk his way over to me and just...stand there. Staring at me through that mask. Saying nothing.

I swallowed my intimidation. "What are you gonna do, Kane?" I taunted. "You gonna try scaring a defenseless woman? Huh? You wanna scare me? Sorry, Big Red, it don't work that way." To prove my point, I smacked him on the shoulder, hard. Big mistake.

Kane's hand shot out and closed around my throat. My eyes flew wide open in complete panic. I felt my feet lifted clean off the apron as I was pulled bodily over the top rope and into the ring. Kane's eyes were nothing but black slits as he narrowed them at me, slowly lifting me up yet again to deliver what I was sure would be the chokeslam that broke my back.

I let out a strangled shriek and began to flail for all I was worth, struggling to breathe and desperately trying to pry his thick fingers off my throat. The ref was pleading with Kane to let me go and had started a five count, threatening disqualification as I kicked at Kane's shins to little avail.

But just as the ref counted to three-

"GET OFF HER!" Seth roared, and Kane suddenly dropped me when Seth's foot collided with the side of his head. I gasped for air as I hit the mat on all fours, one hand massaging my neck. A hand closed around my ankle and I was dragged out of the ring, finding myself on my feet and nestled under Roman's protective arm.

"Are you okay?" he urgently asked me, and I nodded, letting out a rasping cough. I was too scared to speak, my legs shaking so violently I was sure I was about to collapse. My throat burned and I had next to no doubt that I'd have bruises there tomorrow.

Meanwhile, Seth had incapacitated Kane long enough that he was now attempting to climb to the top rope. The ref was too busy checking on me and telling me to not attempt getting involved again. He wasn't looking at the ring. This allowed that sneaky little shit Daniel to push Seth straight off the turnbuckle and into the path of Kane. For the second time tonight, Seth found himself with Kane's hand around his throat. He was lifted up, thrown straight back down and one, two, three. It was all over. Seth had lost.

"No! NO!" I tried shouting but it just came out as a powdery whisper. As Kane's music played out and he was declared the winner, Roman and I scrambled back into the ring and began to argue with the ref, insisting that Kane should be disqualified, that Bryan had pushed Seth, it wasn't a proper win, but the ref was having none of it. At one point I truly thought Roman was gonna punch the dude's lights out so I placed my arm across his chest and gently pushed him back, moving us over to where Seth was still lying on the mat.

Roman helped him to his feet and soon it was all three of us shouting at the official. Now it was Seth doing most of the talking whilst I massaged my throat and Roman glowered at Kane and Bryan.

The official was having none of it. Kane exited the ring and the man in stripes began pushing Seth and I towards the ropes. "Out! Both of you, get out of the ring or Roman is disqualified!" he said firmly. "And Savannah, you're no longer permitted to be ringside. Get to the trainers and get your throat looked at."

"What?! I'm fine!" I rasped, even though I clearly wasn't.

"Savannah, I mean it." The official pointed at the ramp. "Out! Before I go through with the disqualification!"

"I'm not leaving!" I insisted.

"Hey." Seth took my hand and gently pulled me back, making me look at him. "We're gonna be fine. Go get checked out."

"But Seth, I don't want-"

"Sav. Go. Before Roman really does get disqualified. Please."

I sighed heavily, glaring at him like a sulky child. Without a word, I turned away and stomped my way past the ring and up the ramp. The bell tolled behind me.

* * *

I was in the trainer's room for the entirety of Roman's match and then some. I'd watched the whole thing on a TV in the room as I sat perched on the examination table whilst Doc had prodded me around, examined inside my throat and the bones around it. Thankfully, I only had a bruised larynx, not a crushed one and no damage to my windpipe. I'd be right as rain in a couple of days as long as I kept some ice on it and took ibuprofen regularly.

I discarded the melting bag of ice I was currently sporting in a nearby trashcan, mentally making a note to grab some before we left the arena. I was making my way back to our changing room to wait out the rest of the show when I heard the _tap, tap, tap_ of high heels behind me. "Hi Savannah, how are you?"

I rolled my eyes at the falsely sweet voice of Nikki Bella as I turned around to face her, my arms crossed. "I'm so great, Nikki, thanks for asking." For fuck sake, my weak, raspy voice sounded pathetic. I cleared my throat in attempt to speak normally and added, "Where's Brie? It's unlike you to be without your bitch- sorry, I mean sister."

A cold wave washed over Nikki's face as she stared daggers at me. "Oh, I'm sure I could see the same for you. Where are your hounds? Or is your boyfriend still licking his wounds after losing to Kane? It was so cute how he jumped to your rescue earlier."

My hands clenched into fists at my sides. "Seth is not my boyfriend. Never has been, never will be. Sorry to disappoint you, Nikki, but not all of us feel the need to ride every successful wrestler we see to make ourselves relevant. He saved me because we always have each other's backs."

"Hey, there's no need to hide it," she said snidely. "Seth's hot. If I wasn't with John..." She let her voice trailed off.

"You need to shut up, now," I growled, my temper rapidly spiking. "Seth is my brother. I have no boyfriend. I am as single as is humanely possible. On the plus side, I don't have to worry about being stuck with a guy who never wants to marry me or give me babies." It was common knowledge backstage that Cena pretty much refused to marry Nikki.

"No, that is a good point," Nikki said sourly. "Then again, at least _I_ don't have to worry about any potential boyfriends catching anything nasty from me. Have your little Indy habits caught up with you yet?"

I let out a single, bitter laugh. "Not yet, and if you keep running your mouth then you're gonna find out about my _other_ Indy habits. And trust me, Barbie, you _really_ do not want that to happen."

Now it was Nikki who laughed, though hers was high-pitched, tinkly and gave me the urge to slap the taste out of her mouth even more. "Very cute, Savannah. I'm terrified, honestly. The only other Indy habit you're well known for is drinking yourself into oblivion every ni- OH MY GOD!"

Nikki never got the chance to finish her sentence because I lunged forward and seized hold of her by her hair extensions. I tossed her backwards into a nearby stack of drawers before throwing myself at her. The drawers wheeled backwards and the two of us fell to the floor, me on top of her throwing slaps and punches at every inch of her that I could reach.

Inhuman screeches flooded from both our mouths as Nikki tried to fight back, so I grabbed the roots of her hair again and pulled her head up before I headbutted her straight on the forehead. "YOU DARE THINK YOU HAVE THE RIGHT TO BRING UP MY PAST, YOU BITCH!?" I screamed, digging my nails into her shoulder and drawing blood.

"You complete psycho!" Nikki yelled, rolling the two of us around so suddenly she was the one with the upper hand, slamming my head down into the concrete. Nikki was only squatting above me, so - ignoring how much my head hurt - I brought my leg up and kneed Nikki straight in her lady garden. She let out a cry and collapsed to the side, allowing my to crawl to my feet. The amount of screaming I'd done had made my throat feel like it was about to cave in, which just pissed me off more, so I set to delivering a series of blunt, stomping kicks to her ribs.

"Keep out of my way, Nicole, or you _will_ regret it," I spat, kicking her one last time before turning on my heel and stalking away. I didn't get too far. I had to hand it to Nikki, she moved very agilely for someone in five inch heels because it was only seconds later that I felt a blow to the back of my head that sent me reeling, and a dented can of hairspray was dropped at my feet.

Nikki grabbed hold of me by the belt loops of my jeans and threw me straight into a metal garage door. I landed with a thud on the concrete floor and hacked out a cough. Nikki then proceeded to grab my arm, pin it to the door with her own and, using her other arm, slammed an electrical equipment trunk into my forearm. She moved the hand pinning mine at the last second so I took the full impact, and an agonized shriek tore itself from my throat.

She stood back, laughing loudly, and with as much strength as I could muster, I ripped my arm out from between the door and the trunk - tearing some of the skin - and kicked the trunk straight back at Nikki, the wheels running over her feet. She jumped back, yelping, and I ran up and hit her with a thesz press.

"WHY. WON'T. YOU. STAY. DOWN?!" I yelled. I began shaking her by the shoulders and started up my whole 'punch every inch of skin I could see' charade when I heard a ton of thudding footsteps coming up behind me. A set of arms wrapped around my waist and pulled me up, and I thrashed against them, shouting, "LET ME GO! I'LL KILL HER FOR DOING THIS TO ME!"

"Sav, it's us, it's us!" I was put down and spun around, and I found myself staring into Seth's concerned brown eyes.

"Seth?!" I gasped out, clinging to his shoulders. Behind him, I could see both Roman and Dean. Roman looked beyond freaked out and even Dean looked unnerved. And behind them...two cameramen. I didn't even know how long the cameras had been there, but something told me I'd know when the show was broadcast on Friday.

My chest heaved from my heavy breathing as I tried to calm myself down, and Seth reached out and gently wiped some blood off my cheek where Nikki had scratched me with her long fingernails. A trainer was busy checking on her, turning her head left and right to examine the blue and red mask I'd given her. I looked down at the arm she had jammed between the metal door and the trunk and saw a bright purple bruise blossoming. I turned around, brushing Seth off me, and spat some blood at Nikki's feet before grinning wildly at her.

It looked like I'd found my opponent for next week's Monday Night Raw.

* * *

 **A/N- Please review, guys! I'd really appreciate some more feedback, it really helps me with my motivation and story progress! If you'd like to see Sav's first ever merch then check out my Polyvore page at** _ **zombies-and-harlequins**_ **, along with the other outfits Sav has worn throughout the fic. Just wanna give a shoutout to my very best friend LittleMissUnderstood97 for her help with certain parts of this chapter. Also, just because I love her so much, I'mma give a shoutout to my girl Starfire Tamaran too for her continued support! Seriously, check out her Seth/OC fic** _ **Over The Love**_ **because it is soooo good! And yes, Seth's 'type' may or may not have been based on her OC ^_^ Again, please review, and I'll see you guys soon! Xx Gee xX**


	12. Boiling Point

**A/N- Super huge thanks to angelsdee327 and xXxShonxXx for your lovely reviews!**

* * *

 **Chapter Twelve - Boiling Point**

 _ **SavvyAsHellWWE: nicoleandbri – Oh Nikki. You had a lot to say about me on SmackDown, so why don't you prove me wrong? #Raw…we'll see who's relevant.  
**_ _ **Tweeted 06/02/2013 23.09PM**_

I had never felt relief like the day I got cleared to get back in the ring. We were wrapping up a house show in Danbury, Connecticut - the boys picking up the win, naturally - and I got called into the trainer's room as soon as the show ended.

The boys all waited back for me since we'd been economic and decided to get just the one rental for a change. I was taken through all the typical concussion tests for about a half hour, which included having a torch shined in my eyes and getting my knees thwacked with a mini hammer to check my reflexes.

"You've recovered exceptionally, Miss Jordan," said the trainer, pulling off his white surgical gloves and dumping them in a trash can. "Your reflexes are on point and everything else is exactly how it should be. You're lucky; had you hit that barrier any harder and you'd have been out for much longer."

I let out a squeal, clapping my hands. "Thank you so much, doc! You've made my week."

"Just try to take it easy for the next couple of days anyway," he advised. "Just to be on the safe side. You're cleared to wrestle, but might I recommend not diving headfirst through the ropes."

"Duly noted," I said, hopping down from the table. "I appreciate it, doc."

"Take care of yourself, Savannah," he said with a smile.

I decided that as the little sister of The Shield that it was my solid duty to play a little prank on my darling brothers. Just before I opened the door I arranged my face into an expression of dismay, trudging my way out of the office with my eyes lowered.

Seth was almost immediately at my side. "Sav? What happened?"

I sniffed like I'd been crying. "It…it's worse than they thought. My reactions aren't as strong as they should be, it's too dangerous for me to get back in the ring. I'm out for another month…maybe more..."

"Oh God, Sav, I'm sorry." Seth's arms encircled around my waist. Since the rebuttal had been published on the WWE website, the rumour about Seth and I dating had been near enough forgotten. Well, maybe not forgotten, per se, but no one was talking about it. At least, not to our faces.

"Aww, group hug!" Seth and I both had the wind knocked out of our lungs as Dean collided with us, an arm around each of our shoulders. "Reigns, come join the love-in."

"I'll pass," Roman mumbled, but I felt his hand awkwardly pat the top of my head. I couldn't control myself any longer at that point and began to laugh, my shoulders shaking.

"What's so funny?" questioned Seth as the group hug dispersed, all three men looking perplexed.

"You three!" I snickered. "I can't believe how easily you all fell for that! I'm fucking with you, morons, I'm totally cleared! I'll be getting back in the ring tomorrow."

"You're a real bitch sometimes, you know that?" Dean said grumpily, and he suddenly yanked me into a headlock.

"Don't even fucking think about it," I warned, not wanting a repeat of just before Extreme Rules. I jammed my elbow into his ribs several times and since he wasn't wearing his protective ring gear I managed to draw a girlish yelp of pain out of him.

"So who're you up against?" he coughed out, massaging his ribs.

I smirked, phone already in hand as I sent out the provoking Tweet that would get me my match. "If you actually used your Twitter account, you would know. Roman, Seth, be prepared for your timelines to blow the fuck up."

"Sav, what are you doing?" Seth said warily.

"Nothing. Nothing at all," I said innocently, stashing my phone back into my bra. "Do you guys mind hanging around for another ten minutes? I can't bear another second in my gear, I need to get changed before we head out."

"Can't you just wait till we get to Hartford?" asked Roman. "It's already gone eleven, we need to get going."

"Um, no Roman, I can't 'just wait,'" I bit back. "I'm not sitting in a car for another hour in tight shorts and a leather top. I will be ten minutes, fifteen tops. Chill the fuck out." I'd been back in my trusty action-ready valet gear tonight since I'd been so close to being cleared. I'd even been involved in a ringside brawl that had involved me slapping the piss out of Randy Orton.

"Why do you have to be so damn awkward?" Roman snapped, and I raised a brow.

So while the whole 'are Seth and Sav dating' thing had died down, its effects were still raging wild. Things between Roman and I had nosedived significantly, even with the fact he'd helped protect me from Kane last week. Honestly, I was starting to get…bored. The constant tension was exhausting, I hated some of the things we said to each other and I just wanted it to be done with. At this point I didn't even care that the arguments were helping to quash the developing…feelings I had for the Samoan. But if Roman wasn't willing to put in the effort of getting along then why the fuck should I?

I rubbed at my temple. "I will be fifteen minutes," I reiterated tiredly. "Wait in the car, wait in the lobby, go to catering and get a coffee, I don't give a fuck what you do. I'll see you in a few." Instead of waiting for anyone to answer, I turned on my heel and stormed away in the general direction of our changing room.

Once I arrived, I stripped out of my gear and dumped it in my tote bag, changing into a pair of black slouchy _American Horror Story_ sweatpants, an off-white muscle tank that read _Kiss the Boys and Make Them Die_ and pink Vans. There, nice and comfortable for the drive to Hartford. I once again thanked God I wasn't one of those girls who lived her life dressed in skin-tight dresses and Louboutins.

I was just gathering up my bags after removing my makeup and getting ready to head out when my phone pinged with my notification alert. Unlocking it, I saw it was from Twitter. A sly smirk spread across my lips as I read it.

 _ **nicoleandbri: SavvyAsHellWWE - bring it. It's time u were knocked down a peg. U attacked me 4 no reason, we all saw on SmackDown. I was defending myself! N**_

 _ **SavvyAsHellWWE: nicoleandbri – Don't make me laugh.**_ _ **For no reason?! Defending yourself?! You're an even bigger idiot than I thought. #TalkShitGetHit**_

 _ **nicoleandbri: SavvyAsHellWWE - tut, tut Savannah, we're a PG company. I can't wait 2 show u what a true Diva is. N**_

 _ **SavvyAsHellWWE: nicoleandbri - Learn some grammar, you bimbo. The only thing that'll be shown on Raw is me handing you your ass. Oh, & leave Brie behind for once.**_

 _ **nicoleandbri: SavvyAsHellWWE - deal, just make sure those dogs of urs stay far away as well. C u tomorrow, boo :* N**_

 _ **SavvyAsHellWWE: nicoleandbri - Make sure your health insurance is up to date, sweetheart. xoxo**_

There was no reply from Nikki after that, so I stashed my phone in my bag and finally headed out of the locker room, having officially hit my fifteen minute time limit. "Told you dickheads I wouldn't be long," I jeered once I found the boys mulling around by the backstage exit. "Let's get outta here. I can drive again. Who has the keys?"

"That's okay, sis, you drove us here," said Seth, holding them up. "I've got this."

"Aw. Thanks Sethie," I said with a smile, reaching up and ruffling his hair before leading us out the door and into the parking lot.

"SHOTGUN!" Dean suddenly shouted obnoxiously, his jean-clad figure speeding past me in the direction of our black Honda Civic.

"Dean, no! NO!" I yelped, attempting to run after him. "I'm always shotgun, I called permanent dibs weeks ago! You can't do this to me!"

"Sure I can, you selfish bitch!" he called over his shoulder, skidding his ass over the bonnet of the car and planting himself firmly in front of the passenger door. "You've been in shotgun for the last two months. Give some other poor fucker a chance."

"I'm not sitting in the back with him!" I protested, pointing at Roman, who had said, "I'm not sitting in the back with her!" at the exact same time.

"Tough shit, go to sleep if it bothers you that much," Dean replied, rolling his eyes.

"God, I fucking hate you sometimes," I groaned, kicking the back wheel.

"Glad to hear it, Rosie, I love you too," he said cheerfully, opening the door and sliding into the seat.

"Don't even think about touching me," I warned Roman, dumping my tote in the trunk when Seth popped it and opening the door to the seat behind the driver. I had a feeling that if I sat behind Dean my hands would 'mysteriously' end up constricting around his neck.

"No chance of that one, baby girl," Roman grunted. Oh, this _was_ going to be a fun car journey. The two of us clambered into our seats and closed our doors, both slamming them for emphasis.

"I honestly think it would be easier to make seven-year-olds get along," commented Seth, his voice coming through the gap between the opened trunk. He finished arranging everyone's luggage and shut it, climbing into the driver's seat and turned the key, putting the car in Drive.

"And like a seven-year-old, I'm choosing to ignore you all now," I said testily, glad I'd had the foresight to grab my Beats before I'd put my bag in the trunk. I plugged them into my phone and sat back, staring moodily out the window as we set off.

It was nearing on half past eleven at night and it was pitch black as we travelled up the freeway aside from the headlights of the other cars. I had Eminem blaring in my ears, and yet I found myself fighting to keep my eyes open. I was exhausted; 25% of it was from tonight's events, 40% of it was from travelling non-stop since Friday morning and 35% of it was from arguing with Roman yet again. I was just done, man.

We'd been driving for about a half hour and I was just getting into silently mouthing along to _Without Me_ when I felt a tap on my shoulder. "I said don't touch me, Reigns," I said tonelessly, not removing my headphones nor turning to look at him. I could just about hear him mumbling something over my music, but I continued to blank him until he physically pulled my headphones off my ears. "What the fuck?!"

"Listen for once," he growled at me. "What the hell is this?" He held up his phone, and I squinted in the sudden glaring light. Displayed on the screen was the Tweet thread between me and Nikki.

I shrugged. "I needed a match, I knew who I wanted to beat the fuck out of. It's really quite simple. Nikki pissed me off on Tuesday and if she thinks she's getting away with nothing more than the bruises I gave her that night then she's got another fucking thing coming."

"Jesus Christ, Sav, what _did_ she do that's gonna warrant this AND the beat down you gave her?" asked Seth.

"Yeah, that'd be good to know," agreed Roman. "I mean, 'talk shit, get hit?' What did she say?"

I hesitated. Because the things Nikki and I had said to each other pre-brawl were so _not_ in the realm of PG, the editing team had totally cut that part out of Friday night's broadcast. Instead, that segment had started with me throwing myself at Nikki and pushing her into a wheeled trunk. I'll admit, it made me look really bad because it did look like I'd attacked Nikki for no reason when I had the biggest reasoning in the world. No one brought up my past and got away with it.

No one.

Of course, I'd not said anything to the guys once they'd dragged me back to the dressing room and calmed me down. Seth didn't know, Dean didn't need the reminder and my God, was I still regretting letting Roman in. They'd obviously not heard any of the yelling beforehand – they'd barely got there in time for Seth to pull me off Bella – and Nikki herself was running around telling everyone that I'd sneak attacked her for no reason.

"She…said some stuff I didn't like," I mumbled pathetically.

"She said something about CZW, didn't she," Dean said bluntly, turning around to face me. God fucking damn it, this man could read me like a book.

I sighed heavily. "What gave it away?"

"You always get like this when someone brings it up. You've not noticed?" he replied. "You spaz out, beat the crap out of someone then stop talking properly for about a week. I'm not blind, kiddo. Fuck, you did it to me on your second day of FCW."

"Dean…" I didn't know what else to say.

"You can talk to us about this, you know," Roman said gently. Oh for fuck sake. So now he was gonna drop the hostility gig and come over all concerned?

"Oh yeah, because you know me _so well_ , right, Roman?" I bit back.

"Better than you think, I'll bet," he said, though his voice was slightly more strained, I noticed. Probably from trying to keep his cool. "You told me all that shit for a reason."

"Told you what? What are we talking about right now?" Seth piped up. All three of us ignored him.

"I'm trying _really_ hard to do the whole big brother thing here, Rosie," added Dean. "And we all know how I don't do the girly 'feelings' shit so just take that into consideration, okay?"

"I know, and that's why I'd really, _really_ like to _not_ be talking about this anymore!" I practically begged, going to grab my Beats out of Roman's hands. He was too quick, shoving them in the compartment in the side of his door. "Son of a bitch!"

"You're not running from this, not this time," he said sternly.

"Running from what?!" Seth tried again, and again we ignored.

"So you've decided to wait until I'm trapped in a moving tin can before harassing me?" I said mordantly. "Very admirable, boys."

"It was this or tie you to a bed, and as appealing as that sounds," Dean said with a smirk. "This seemed like the safer bet."

"You're right," I sarcastically agreed. "It _is_ safer. Except that I might start screaming, which could distract Seth, which would make him take his eyes off the road, which could get us killed."

"I'm already distracted," Seth muttered. "Seriously, what are we talking about?"

"Well then don't scream and everything will be fine," suggested Roman. "We're a family. We're your brothers. You can tell us anything."

"Getting a little too deep for my liking now, Reigns," I said nervously.

"Uh, yeah. He's right. Family," Seth tried getting in on the conversation yet again. "Like, what are you guys talking about?"

"Ro's right. No secrets here," Dean put in.

"I disagree," Seth mumbled.

"We're close," Dean continued.

"Well, apparently not." Seth again.

"And you can tell us aaaanything," Dean finished.

"What the hell is happening right now." Seth really was not going to give up, was he?

"We're here for you. I told you, we're a team," Roman said staidly, placing his hand on my knee. I jumped at the contact and shoved his hand away.

"Doesn't feel like it," Seth grumbled.

"Shut _up_ , Seth!" I snapped. "Has it not occurred to you that if I'd wanted you to know what we're talking about then I would have told you?!"

"I'm supposed to be your boyfriend, I deserve to know!" he shot back, which earned him a sharp kick to the back of his chair.

"Fuck off. All that shit is finally being forgotten and I'd appreciate it if you didn't bring it back up!" I said sullenly. I also didn't miss the flicker of irritation that appeared on Roman's face for a split second. What was up with him recently?

"You gotta admit though, that story got you two a helluva lot of publicity," Dean said absentmindedly, turning back around to look out of the window. Oh thank God, the talk about Nikki and I seemed to be over. _Good,_ I thought. _Let's keep it that way._

"It's attention we could do without," I muttered.

"You know what they say, little sis," said Seth, clearly getting in on a conversation he was actually part of as quickly as he could. "All publicity is good publicity."

"This is publicity about your dick being in my pussy so to me, that's fucking bad publicity," I spat out venomously. The car fell silent. I'd even shocked Dean, and that really was saying something.

He soon recovered, however. "Such vulgarity from a lady," he ribbed.

"Lady? Have you met me?" I quipped. "Is the interrogation over now?"

"Nope," Dean said in his signature way. "If things are being said that are making you snap like that, then it's an injustice. And what does The Shield do? We _eradicate_ injustice."

"That's a big word for you, Deano," I said, but I sighed, defeated. We were back on topic. "Fine. She said some…things. Things about my post-match activities."

"What, about me or…?"

I shook my head. "No, the other stuff. The bad stuff." He gave me a mutually understanding nod. Dean now knew why I'd freaked out as violently as I did.

"Wait, you're losing me," Roman frowned. Of course…I'd only told him about the childhood side. I'd never revealed to him the extent of how fucked up I really was. He didn't know. If I had it my way, neither he nor Seth ever would.

"She had the right to kick Nikki's ass," Dean said abruptly. "That's all you need to know, bro."

"I mean, okay, I won't pretend to be totally innocent. I did say some shit to her about Cena never wanting to marry her," I admitted. "But I still don't think that called for her to say _any_ of the things she said to me! Oh, and she also implied- no, scratch that, straight up suggested that I've got an STI."

"Jesus Christ," sighed Seth. "I'm starting to see why none of this got broadcast. That's fucked up."

"Tell me about it," I muttered, wiping away a stray tear as I thought about what Nikki had said. "Please can we stop talking about this now? It…it hurts thinking about it." There. My first attempt at being completely honest with the three of them. To say I was surprised they listened to me would be an understatement. But they did, and I couldn't have appreciated it more. The remainder of the journey was spent in total silence, and when we reached the hotel we all went our separate ways, promising to meet up in the morning for a gym session before Raw.

Admittedly, I didn't sleep too well that night. I had a lot preying on my mind, from my first match in almost three weeks to the things Nikki had said to the feelings I was still trying to fight towards Roman. Honestly, I don't know if I slept at all. My eyes were open when my alarm went off at 6.45 the next morning, so I downed two mugs of black coffee before heading into the shower.

Today was the day I re-established my dominance over the Divas Division. One loss in five months since my undefeated streak had started in January back in NXT would _not_ define me. Dean was right; tonight, the injustice would be eradicated.

* * *

"Sometimes I feel like I would be better suited to a theme like Brock Lesnar's," I said to Eileen the makeup artist as she added the finishing touches to painting my eyelids with a dark, smokey eye shadow.

"What makes you say that?" she asked.

"I mean, don't get me wrong, I love what I've got and what I share with the boys, but come on. _Da- da da da DA - da da da- DA-_ " I mimicked the opening bars of Lesnar's music completely out of tune, seeing fit to add scratchy little DJ noises to the end. "Who would fuck with me if _that_ kicked in before I walked out?"

"How are you so terrifying when you're in the ring yet utterly adorable outside of it?" Eileen chuckled.

"Split personality disorder," I deadpanned, and the two of us giggled again as she tapped my shoulder to indicate she was done with my face.

She held a hand mirror up in front of me. "So, how's this for a kick-ass back to the ring look?"

Along with the sultry eyes she had given me, my skin was a flawless porcelain, my lips were a deep matte crimson and my nails were black and shiny. She had also used foundation to cover over the fading bruises on my neck and forearms. I let out a small squeal. "Damn, Ei, you've done it again! I look incredible! Thank you so much!"

"Anytime, beautiful," she said with a smile. "Give 'em hell tonight."

"Thanks doll," I said warmly, air-kissing her on the cheek once I'd hopped down from my chair. I grabbed my plastic-wrapped ring gear from under it and sauntered away, happening across both Bellas on my travels.

"Good luck later, Nikki!" I called tauntingly, waggling my fingers at her. "You're gonna need it!"

"Eat crap and die, Savannah," she snapped back.

"Eat crap and live, Nicole," I retorted, but I shot her a sarcastic smile and kept walking. As fun as it would have been to have Bella Backstage Brawl 2.0, I wanted to save every last ounce of my energy for our real match. The way I saw it, tonight was just the start of my second win streak.

"Oh, another day, another person I've pissed off," I said with a giggle once I arrived at the dressing room, closing the door behind me and throwing my gear down on the bench.

"Oh God, who this time?" groaned Seth.

"Oh, no one new," I replied. "I just wanted to rile Nikki up a little more. It's my specialty, aside from annoying Roman." I gave the Samoan a cheeky toothy grin. Suffice to say, he did not return it.

"You're out for blood tonight, aren't you?" Seth said.

"When aren't I?" I shot back. "It's kind of the entire reason I became a wrestler. But in reference to tonight specifically, you fucking know it. I don't know if all these dumb bitches think that because I've been out of action for three weeks it suddenly makes them better than me or what, but it ends today. Yes, I lost at Extreme Rules. Yes, I spoke a lot of shit in the run up to it. No, I didn't manage to back myself up. But why should I have to? I have beaten _every single Diva_ in that locker room at least twice. If that isn't enough to show them that I am the woman you do not fuck with then I am more than happy to make an example of Barbie Bella tonight."

"That was one hell of a speech," said Seth. "We should have had that on camera."

I shrugged. "I don't need the world to hear me show it when I'm gonna show them all first-hand."

"And that, gentlemen, was a classic CZW Savannah Rose promos," Dean announced with a round of applause.

"I wouldn't mind seeing some of your old Indy stuff," Seth mused.

"Trust me, you really would," I abruptly said, unbuttoning and removing my jeans before rolling my laddered tights up my legs. My combat shorts followed. "We were on the circuit at the exact same time, if you didn't see it then, you're not seeing it at all." I decided to quickly change the subject. "We've got a half hour until the show starts and since your six-man tag is opening, I recommend you three actually get dressed. You're not gonna make anyone feel all that intimidated if you show up in jeans, a hoodie, a stained t-shirt or an emo band shirt."

"Stained?" Dean looked down at his t-shirt in surprise while Seth resentfully exclaimed, "It's not emo, it's punk! We've had this discussion!"

"And we're not having it again!" I screwed up the plastic my gear had been packaged in and tossed it at his head. "There's only room for one whiny bitch in The Shield and that spot has been taken by moi."

"Bitch is right!" Seth responded by throwing the plastic straight back at me where it caught me square in the eye.

"Ow!" I yelped. "Bully! You all saw that! He deliberately hit me in the eye!"

"You're such a child!" Seth commented.

"Well yeah! I am the little sister here! It's not my fault you're all the wrong side of twenty-five!"

"And what does that make you, Ms Only-Twenty-Five-For-Six-More-Months?"

"It makes me on the fence, dick-nugget! Sorry, old man!"

"Old man? That's it!" Seth suddenly lunged for me, tossing me over his shoulder and spinning me around in a circle.

"Put me down, you son of a bitch, before I puke all over you!" I shouted.

"My sincerest apologies," Seth said, but he didn't exactly put me down gently.

"And the floor recognizes everyone's favourite wrestling power couple," Dean snorted.

"AMBROSE!" we both yelled irately.

* * *

"You know your match isn't due to start until after the break, right?" I said nervously. "We don't really need to go out there, like, right now."

"Aw, what's the matter, Rosie?" Dean pouted. "Scared of the big ol' boss?"

"Gee, is it that obvious?" I said. "I mean, I am all for taking on every single motherfucker that steps in our way, don't get me wrong, but, er, interrupting the Chairman seems like a fucking career suicide note."

"You're doing that thing where you panic for no reason," pointed out Seth. "Don't know if you've noticed."

"Listen to the crowd, Sav." Roman paused to allow the sound of the crowd chanting for Triple H and booing both McMahons in the ring. "They're gonna start getting bored and I wouldn't put it past some people to start leaving already."

I rolled my eyes. "Oh, Roman. Forever needing to prove me wrong." I shifted Dean's United States Championship up my shoulder, having decided I wanted to carry it out. "I was merely stating my discomfort, no need to tear my head off about it."

"Alright, fuck this," growled Dean. "If you two are gonna stand there bitching at each other then we're going out there. Now. Move your asses." Ah, the Moxley voice. The one way Dean knew I'd do pretty much anything he asked on the account that it scared me shitless.

"Yes sir!" I squeaked, scurrying after him to the doors to the adjacent stairway.

"I've gotta admit, with the mood you've been in the last couple of days, I didn't actually think that was gonna work," Dean chuckled.

"Yeah, well, the last time I was threatened with that voice you told me to- I mean, you threw me off the top of a turnbuckle and into a sheet of glass," I replied, mentally slapping myself for almost letting slip. I grabbed a water bottle from a passing backstage hand and tipped my head down, emptying half of it over my hair and running it through with my fingertips.

"Those were the days," he said wistfully.

"Don't make me scratch your title," I cautioned.

His eyes narrowed. "You wouldn't dare."

"Just watch me." I positioned one of my long nails over his nameplate.

"Hit the music!" he practically barked to one of the sound guys. Nice to know I was still as manipulative as ever.

To say Mr McMahon looked somewhat put out when the four of us appeared at the top of the stairs probably doesn't do it justice. In short, the dude looked pretty pissed, as did Stephanie. Hey, it wasn't our fault that they were boring the crowd shitless. Talking of the crowd, I couldn't believe there were people in it actually wearing my War Cry shirt! It was incredibly humbling to see my new insignia splashed proudly across so many people's chests as Dean and I made our way down the steps. I myself was debuting the grey version tonight before I changed into my spiked crop top for my match.

Stephanie and her father didn't hang around once the four of us had cleared the barricade and were circling the ring. They soon vacated the ring and scampered back up the ramp, leaving us staring down the crowd.

It was a standard match for us. Randy Orton and Team Hell No joined the boys in the ring as I rolled out, not getting involved even remotely so I was 100% for my own match. I didn't need to get involved anyway. My boys were in control for almost the entire match. I'll admit there were a few times where I was worried, but a headlock driver from Dean to Orton sealed their win.

As I climbed into the ring and raised both Dean's and Seth's arms in victory, I shot a devilish smirk at the camera pointing at us and mouthed, 'My time now, baby.' Their win was down, only mine to go. And it _would_ be a win. One loss in at least twenty matches – dark matches included – did not mean anything.

The three of them some were somewhat limping as we made our way back to our dressing room, but it was nothing they'd not felt before so none of them were worried, though Seth did keep clutching his jaw from the dropkick Bryan had given him.

"Gotta admit, I didn't expect it to breakdown quite that badly," I commented, flopping down on the bench.

"You and us both, kid," said Dean, dumping his title in his cubby hole followed by downing half a bottle of water, tipping the rest over his head to cool down.

"I think that son of a bitch dislocated my jaw," complained Seth, sitting down next to me.

"Nah, he can't of; you're still running your mouth," I dismissed jokingly, running my hand through his blonde patch. "Aww, look how fluffy you are! It feels like a spaniel."

"Get off, you," he said fondly, batting my hand away.

I just ran my hand through the brown part instead. "Seriously, it's like a fucking afro! Most girls I know would kill for this kinda volume!"

"You are such a pain in the ass sometimes," he muttered.

"Oh, I know," I said sweetly. "S'why you love me so much."

"If y'all could shut up for a second," snapped Roman. "Check this out." He gestured at the small TV in the corner, turning up the volume. It was Orton, Kane and Bryan in one of the other changing rooms in the midst of an argument.

"Oh, _that's_ an apology," Bryan was sarcastically saying to Kane. "Did you hear that? _That_ was an apology. You know, I knew that you think I'm the 'weak link'-"

"Me?" Kane said.

"But now it's clear that you-" the bearded one jabbed at Orton. "-think I'm the weak link too, don't you, Randy?!"

"Uh oh," I snickered. "Trouble in paradise."

"I get it, I get it," Bryan was still venting. "That's why you can't apologise to me! Because it's MY FAULT THAT WE LOST! HUH?! IT'S MY FAULT THAT WE LOST!"

"Jesus Christ, this is uncomfortable to watch," I said quietly.

"It's not your fault!" grunted Randy.

"You know what?" Bryan snapped. "Now I know why you can't apologise to me, because you guys don't respect me!"

It completely snapped out then, with Kane insisting they did respect him, Bryan screaming at both of them in frustration and ended with him declaring he'd have another match tonight and 'beat the respect' out of someone.

"Do you think we just witnessed the end of Hell No?" I asked.

"Nah, it won't be that easy," replied Dean. "But there's some pretty little cracks going on there. It won't be much longer."

"And that's why they're not the champs anymore," said Roman, patting his tag title.

"Thank God we're the tightest unit the company's ever seen," added Seth. "No chances of any miscommunication here."

"You're damn right," I said determinedly. I held out my fist. "Hounds of Justice."

The three of them all placed their fists against mine. "Hounds of Justice," they repeated.

"And our Siren," Seth said, smiling at me.

* * *

Savannah vs Nikki was the sixth match on the card so I'd had a good hour to recuperate from the boys' match, but the downside was that our match had a time slot of five minutes because we preceded the joint main events. I was angry, I was bloodthirsty, and I was ready. Nikki Bella wouldn't know what hit her until my fist connected with her throat.

"You sure you don't want us out there?" asked Seth, squeezing my shoulder.

I shook my head. "You're banned, remember? You come out and so does Brie, and you can't exactly fight her to keep the distractions off, can you?"

"So we'll wait by the curtains."

"Seth! I'm a big girl, I can fight my own battles. It's not like I've not slain the entire Divas roster without your help."

"Just…don't do anything stupid, okay?" he said anxiously.

"Excuse you!" I exclaimed. "Stupid like what?"

"Stupid like breaking your face again," he said, totally seriously.

"Relax, that was a one-off fluke. It won't happen again."

"That one-off fluke cost you almost three weeks of competing."

"I repeat: _relax_ , Seth. Nikki's no match for me. Never has been, never will be." I was prepared to go into a full scale rant about why I was better than Nikki, but the opening drums of my music had began to play the other side of the doors. "This is me. Give me a good luck hug and go back to the guys. I'll be fine."

Seth wrapped his arms around my waist and pulled me close for a few seconds but soon let go. "Rip her head off."

"You got it, bro." That was the last thing I said to him as I pushed open the doors and stepped out. I paused at the top of the stairs, soaking in the cheers with my eyes closed.

"Making her way to the ring, representing The Shield, from Dallas, Texas: _Savannah Jordan_!" Lilian Garcia's voice boomed through the arena.

"I'M BACK, BITCHES!" I screamed, and the cheers grew deafening as I made my way down the steps to the ring. I did a handspring over the barricade, my hands touching the concrete the other side as I sprung back to my feet. Any opportunity I had to show off my agility or flexibility, I took it. I took a run up and slid my body under the bottom rope.

I couldn't believe how much I'd missed this, being in the ring for my own match. I'd only been out since Extreme Rules but it felt like forever. I just hoped I'd run the ropes enough during my time off that I wasn't rusty. If I lost tonight, to Nikki, I would never live it down.

"Let me hear your war cryyyyy!" I screeched as I climbed the turnbuckles, throwing my fist in the air with my signature scream and listening to the crowd scream back at me. My music faded as I jumped down from the buckles and removed my t-shirt, and then…

 _You can look,  
But you can't touch.  
You keep dreamin' on the stars above._

"And her opponent, representing The Bella Twins, from Scottsdale, Arizona: _Nikki Bella_!"

I couldn't keep the look of disgust off my face as Nikki walked out from behind the LED board, did that stupid little twirl of hers and proceeded to saunter down the ramp. It took every inch of my self-control not to hurl myself out of the ring and stamp on her until _her_ nose broke. It must have been obvious to the crowd; my fists were clenching on their own accord just from looking at her.

 _Fuck it_. As soon as Nikki stood on the apron, getting ready to flip herself over it, I flew at her. I grabbed hold of her hair and dragged her body right over the top rope, adrenaline flooding my veins and providing me with strength I didn't even know I possessed. The ref quickly called for the bell and I completely went off the rails.

"And the fight is already on!" said JBL from the announcer's table. "Savannah wasting no time here!"

"The match hasn't even started, John!" exclaimed Lawler.

"After such a brutal brawl on SmackDown, Savannah made it very clear that Nikki is on her hit list," said Cole. "No one knows the cause of the fight, but whatever happened caused Savannah to snap, and in a big way."

Knowing I had very limited time, I clotheslined Nikki whilst keeping hold of her hand so I could yank her to her feet immediately after she was down. I repeated this about five times before fisting my hands in the sides of Nikki's shorts and pulled her up, hitting her with an exploder suplex.

She scrambled into the corner and cowered there, whimpering, so I backed up before sprinting forward and going to hit her with a cannonball senton when she rolled out of the ring. I connected violently with the ring post, turning at the last second so I hit it with my hip instead of going crotch-first. I didn't need to re-lose my virginity to the ring post. A low grunt of pain fell from my lips and Nikki took advantage of my disoriented state.

She got back into the ring, grabbed me by the hair (damn, karma much) and threw me straight into the middle of the ring, knocking the wind out of me. She hauled me to my feet and proceeded to slap me a few times - she shouted, "Come on, Savannah! Not so much of a big talker now, are you?" - then hit me with a snapmare knee straight to my face.

 _Of course_ , I thought, clutching my face. _She's targeting my nose._ I clambered to my feet with my back to Nikki, which would have been a huge mistake had I not been able to hear her running footsteps lumbering up behind me. I turned around with a whirl and bent myself backwards until my hands touched the mat, setting me in a bridging position. I felt the breeze shoot over my face as Nikki's forearm missed its target and she went flying past me.

"Oh, what a Matrix by Savannah!" called Michael Cole.

I quickly straightened up and hit Nikki with a spinning heel kick, smacking the hard side of my combat boot straight into the side of her pretty little face. I followed up with straddling her fallen form and repeatedly slamming her head back into the mat.

"Off the hair, Savannah!" the ref warned me. "One! Two! Three- come on!"

"I'm off, I'm off!" I shouted back, reluctantly standing up. As soon as my DQ count had been dismissed, however, I stomped on Nikki's stomach twice and fell on top of her, hooking her leg. Much to my dismay, she got her shoulder up at two. I screamed loudly in frustration and beat my fists down on the mat.

No. No, I couldn't allow myself to get angry. From what I could tell, I had about two minutes until our match got cut short anyway. If this match had to end, it was gonna be by me. No one else.

"Get up, Barbie!" I snarled, locking my hand around Nikki's wrist and yanking her to her feet.

"Get off me!" she howled, stamping on my foot in an attempt to get me to release my hold. I didn't. Instead, I shot her a toothy grin and pulled her forward. I spun her around and went for a German suplex but Nikki countered, managing to spin us back around and hit me with reverse Russian leg sweep, smashing my face clean into the mat.

My nose took all the impact. "Son of a whore!" I mumbled, clamping a hand to my nose and probing. Thank fuck. No blood, nothing felt out of place. By this point, my blood was boiling. The bitch was deliberately going out of her way to put me out of action again, and if she thought she was gonna leave this match unscathed then her dreams were about to be shattered.

I could hear Nikki laughing behind me and it only made me angrier. I flipped to my feet in a kip-up and twisted my head to face her, a silent snarl marring my features. Her laughter rapidly died down, finishing with a strangled yelp when my hand closed around her throat, keeping her at arms length but letting her know I meant fucking business.

I seized her wrist for a second time and succeeded in Irish whipping her into the ropes, though I'd then ran at her to clothesline her over the top, she beat me to it, slipping through the top and middle rope to stand on the apron. She was laughing again, thinking she'd outsmarted me.

"Oh, this is funny to you?" I roared at her. "You think this is funny, Nikki?! You wanna laugh at me?!"

She wasn't laughing when I snapped myself forward and rammed my head and shoulders into her gut, sending her sprawling to the outside. She landed hard, and as she laid there I could see her clutching at her shin as her face contorted in pain. As she shakily made her way to her feet, I could see her being ginger to put weight on the leg she had been clutching.

I had two choices here; let her get counted out, or drag her ass back in the ring and humiliate her. Obviously I was gonna take the second option.

Nikki was firmly on her feet, so the only thing I could do was take her out. I could just picture Seth having a heart attack as I moved to the complete other side of the ring and charged forward, doing a somersault over the top rope and colliding straight with Nikki, knocking the two of us to the ground. Nikki's head bounced off the floor.

Thankfully, the dive hadn't resulted in me breaking a single bone this time around and I managed to untangle myself from Nikki's unresponsive form without her getting a comeback shot in. I grabbed hold of her by her waistband and her hair and shoved her back into the ring before dragging her to her feet.

"Come on, Nikki!" I taunted, copying the way Brie would encourage her.

She hissed in pain when her weight went onto her injured leg, but I honestly didn't give a fuck. Instead, I slotted my arms underneath her armpits and locked them together. I jumped up and slammed the two of us downwards with a full nelson bomb, Nikki's ass and tailbone taking the full brunt of the force.

"You'll pay for what you said to me on SmackDown!" I barked.

I then replaced my arms with my legs, locking them tightly behind her neck and pulling her arms back as far as I could. As soon as I arched my back up into a bridge, I had officially locked Nikki into the Texas Chainsaw. She screamed, and she wriggled, and she wailed, but at no point did she even attempt to fight out. It took three seconds for Nikki to start slapping her foot against the mat, signaling that she had tapped out. The ref immediately called for the bell.

I released Nikki from the hold but took a leaf out of Natalya's book when I stood up, running over Nikki's back to push her torso into the mat before turning back and hitting her with a low dropkick. The ref pulled me away and thrust my arm into the air as Justin Roberts declared, "The winner of this match by submission; _Savannah Jordan_!"

I snatched my hand out of the refs and skipped forward, arms outstretched, basking in the cheers and whoops raining down on me. I even heard people war crying at me. I grinned evilly down at the still fallen Nikki before rolling out of the ring. I walked up the ramp and didn't look back once.

Wiping sweat off my forehead, I pushed the curtain aside and came face-to-face with a smiling Seth, who slipped his hand into mine as we began making our way down the corridor. "Man, you fucking wrecked her," he told me.

"I know," I said smugly. "Felt pretty fucking good too. Have they scraped her remains off the ring yet?"

"I think they're in the process of," he laughed, turning a corner. We were now in an empty corridor and Seth suddenly pulled on my hand to get me to stop. "Wait up a sec. We should celebrate. Did you…I don't know, wanna go get a few drinks after the show?"

"Huh? Er, I mean, yeah, sure," I said, surprised. We never usually did anything like that after Raw given we were always up early the next day to travel to SmackDown. "What're you thinking? Where are Dean and Roman? Have they got any ideas?"

"Sav, I don't mean with them," he replied. "I meant us. You and me."

"Oh..." That completely took me aback. "Seth, that's a bad idea," I sighed, taking my hand out of his.

"Why?" he tested.

"Why?" I repeated incredulously. "Because we've only just got the heat _off_ of people thinking you and I are dating. This would just put it back into motion."

"So what? We've put out a retraction, let people believe what they want," he said. "Besides, what Ambrose said in the car last night has been stuck on my mind."

"What was that, exactly? I have a habit of disregarding anything Dean says."

"About how much publicity we got. The exposure," Seth said cunningly. "We made it into mainstream media. If we were snapped out together again, alone…" He trailed off and swept some of my damp hair away from my collarbone, exposing the A Day To Remember lyrics and rested his hand on my shoulder.

"Seth, stop it," I said quickly, taking a step back. What had gotten into him? He never acted this…intimate with me. For the first time ever, I felt uncomfortable around him. Around my best friend.

He frowned. "So that's a…no?" His hand lingered.

"Of course it's a no!" I exclaimed, totally dumbfounded that he could even remotely believe I would have agreed to this.

Seth looked momentarily putout. To be fair to the guy, he probably wasn't used to girls turning him down. But I wasn't just any girl. I was his sister. His best friend. It was just weird. He snapped out of it, though. He shook his head a couple of times before smiling at me. "That's cool. It was just an idea."

"Mhm. Okay," I said softly. "Now you've got that outta your system, shall we actually go find the guys? I want to get changed at get back to the hotel ASAP."

"Sure." Seth re-laced his fingers through mine. "Let's get outta here."

* * *

 _ **~One Week Later~  
**_ _ **~SmackDown taping, June 11**_ _ **th**_ _ **2013~**_

* * *

"This is hilarious," I snickered, handing Dean the hand held camcorder as we watched Hell No and Randy bicker in the ring on a monitor.

"They're making it too easy," chuckled Dean, turning on the camcorder and directing it at the four of us as we still laughed.

"Oh booooys!" I called tauntingly, our video feeding through to the titantron. "Up here, babes. Don't be shy!"

"Hey! Hey, guys! No, by all means, do what you gotta do, don't mind us," said Seth mockingly. "We just- we just wanna watch, it's actually kinda funny watching you guys out there."

"Like a car wreck, isn't it?" agreed Dean. "I can't look away."

"More painful than a concussion," I added with a grin. "And hey, I should know."

"Then again, after six months of getting beaten up and embarrassed by The Shield, I'd be mad too," continued Dean. "The thing is, you're not mad at us, you're mad at each other. Why's that?"

"Teamwork is a funny thing, isn't it?" I said musingly. "See, that's your problem. You let all your sad little personal issues get in your way, and this happens. An implosion. No one wins, boys. No one but us, that is."

"Or is that because after all this time, all these months of trying to put together every super-team imaginable to try and beat us, you found out every time…The Shield is unstoppable?" added Dean. "The Shield is unbeatable? The Shield is untouchable?"

"And that The Shield is _unbreakable_ ," I put in for emphasis. "So the real question is, now…do you believe in The Shield? Because from where we're standing…it really looks like you do."

"The thing is, there's no reason for you guys to even be arguing right now," said Dean. "Because tonight is just gonna be like every other night when you face The Shield."

"You're gonna lose," Roman said darkly. "And you're gonna lose this Sunday at Payback. And that's why the Hounds of Justice run this yard."

I turned Dean's hand so the camera showed only my face, shot a Harley Quinn-esque grin at the three men in the ring and wickedly said, "Better get your loser faces ready, boys. Believe in us. Forever." before I knocked the camera out of Dean's hand to cut the feed.

* * *

So just over a week had past since Seth and I had had our little 'moment' at Raw, and neither of us had mentioned it since. We'd got on with our lives as normal and it was like it had never happened. As far as I was concerned, it _had_ never happened. The whole idea of it was just wrong. How could Seth have thought that was a good idea? _How_? It baffled me.

"You seem lost in thought," the man himself spoke to me now, making me jump.

"Hmm? Oh, er, yeah. Just thinking about later is all," I quickly lied, finishing up retying my combat boots.

"We're gonna be fine," he said comfortingly.

"Yeah, well, I don't know why the matches have been set up in such a bullshit way," I grumbled. "Surely it makes more sense for you and Roman to take on Randy and Daniel together then Dean and I deal with Kane and AJ? Everything's all muddled up otherwise."

This was a big night for us, as far as SmackDown went. Last week at the previous SmackDown tapings, Kane and Bryan reached their breaking point and it looked like Team Hell No had split for good, something that had been confirmed earlier today. Bryan and Orton had then faced off with Roman and Seth, and er, well…Dean and I may have fucked up when we got them disqualified by Dean attacking Randy and me locking Daniel in the Texas Chainsaw.

To top that off, last night on Raw, after Roman vs Randy ended in a No Contest and Daniel managed to beat Seth, our charming Managing Supervisor Vickie declared that at Payback on the 16th, it would be Daniel and Randy vs Seth and Roman for the WWE Tag Team Championships while Dean would defend his United States Championship.

I had my own problems to deal with. Namely, squashing the Black Widow of the Divas Division. AJ had revealed herself as Kaitlyn's supposed Secret Admirer. Part of me felt it served the Hybrid Diva right for initially suspecting _me_ of all people for the few weeks I was Number One Contender, suspicions that had vanquished as the gifts kept appearing while I was out. No matter how smart AJ had thought she was being, however, Vickie was _not_ impressed. Sooo naturally I'd capitalized and asked a very simple request.

" _Let me take on AJ on SmackDown. If she loses, she forfeits her Number One Contendership and I get my second chance at the belt at Payback."_

Vickie had agreed, though I don't know me asking that had become Roman and I vs AJ and Daniel. Awks, much, given AJ and Daniel's history together. Apparently, Seth didn't know either.

He shrugged. "We don't make the rules, sweetheart. I don't give a shit who I'm fighting so long as I get my hands on any of those three fools."

"So swap!" I begged. "If you're not that worried then switch with Roman! He can go with Dean and you and I take the intergender match!"

"Sav. Relax. You and Roman are perfectly capable of working together and you know it. You don't need to throw a tantrum."

"Yes I fucking do! I don't _want_ to work with Roman!"

"Tough. We can't change it now, not with twenty minutes until your match starts." I crossed my arms and pouted angrily at him. "Pout all you like, sis, it's not changing anything."

"I hate you."

"No you don't."

"What's she bitching about now?" Roman asked with a roll of his eyes, walking back into the dressing room with Dean, both of them clutching two water bottles.

"You, actually, do you mind walking back out so I can finish?" I shot back.

"You're funny, Jordan." He handed Seth the other bottle of water.

"Nope. Deadly serious."

"Well anything you had to say, you can say in front of me."

"Okay, fine. I don't want to do this tag match with you and Seth won't switch with you."

"Trust me, it ain't exactly my definition of a good time either. At least I have the decency to just get on with it."

"Oh my God!" I shouted in exasperation. "Roman Reigns disagrees with me! Everyone, act surprised!"

"You're a bitter lil' thing, aren't you?" Roman said with a snort.

"Motherfucker!" I stood up and went to slap Roman but Seth caught my wrist, halting my outstretched hand in mid-air.

"Don't even think about it, Sav," he admonished. "You need to learn to suck it up and get on with it. We are a team! The two of you need to get on the same fucking page and soon or we're gonna start having issues."

I made a noise of discontent and pulled my hand away. "Whatever," I muttered sulkily. "I'm going to catering. See you by the doors, Roman. Or not. If you don't show up I'll happily go out by myself." I pushed my way between Dean and Roman and stormed out of the room.

"You know what the problem is, don't you?" I heard Dean say.

"What? That she's completely psychotic?" came from Roman.

"Nah. She's sexually frustrated. You ain't fucking her enough, Seth."

"Dean. For fuck sake."

* * *

"The following contest is set for one fall, and it is an intergender tag team match!"

 _Sierra. Hotel. India. Echo. Lima. Delta. Shield._

"Introducing first, representing The Shield, from Pensacola, Florida, weighing in at two hundred and sixty-five pounds, he is one half of the WWE Tag Team Champions: _Roman Reigns_. And from Dallas, Texas: _Savannah Jordan_."

 _Oh sure, they would introduce Roman first_ , I thought bitterly as the two of us walked down the stairs, Roman clutching his title. God I needed to get out of this mind-set and stat. I wouldn't be doing us any favours if I got into that ring and still wanted to tear Roman apart. _Why_ did this have to be so complicated?! I was such a confident (perhaps a little egotistical) and sure-headed person! If this was any other guy I would have either asked him out already or gotten the fuck over it! Why was Roman any different?!

You know what? Right now, that wasn't important. As Roman and I stepped into the ring, I leaned back against our corner turnbuckles whilst Roman stood next to me, both of us glaring up the ramp as Daniel Bryan's music hit and Lilian Garcia announced, "And their opponents! First, from Aberdeen, Washington, weighing in at two hundred and ten pounds: _Daniel Bryan_."

Oh bless, he looked so angry. So much resentment in such a tiny man. Part of me would have wanted him to be the champion if he hadn't been such a pain in the ass for the last few months and wasn't trying to take said championships from my best friend and…whatever the fuck Roman was.

 _Let's light it up!  
Light it up, light it up, light it tonight!  
Let's light it up!  
_ _Like shooting stars, we burn and light up the sky!_

"And his partner, from Union City, New Jersey: _AJ Lee_!"

I had to laugh at how awkward Daniel looked at being this close to AJ again, seeing as how she'd…you know, left him at the alter almost a year ago at Raw 1000. Oh, how humiliated Daniel was. Must have been fun for AJ though, given how he treated her. I honestly think there could be no sweeter revenge than what she did.

AJ placed a fleeting kiss on Daniel's cheek – which he instantly wiped away, a look of disgust on his face – and the two of them walked down the ramp towards the ring. Well. Daniel walked. AJ did that fucking annoying little skip of hers. The second she was in the ring, she shot me a smirk before clutching at her nose and began flailing around, mocking me. I could hear her laughing, though it was muffled.

"Bitch!" I spat, and I moved quickly to jump her and get the upper hand before the bell even rung, but Roman stood in front of me. "Get out of my way, you oaf!"

"I'm starting," he said quietly so no mics picked it up.

"Like hell you are!" I snapped, equally as quiet. "She does _not_ disrespect me like that! _Move_! I'm gonna strangle her with her own shoelaces!"

"Get in the corner, Savannah," Roman said through gritted teeth.

"You get in the corner! _I'm_ starting!" My backstage heat came out before I could stop it, and I shoved him. Hard.

"Oh my God!" I heard Cole shout. "There has been speculation for weeks over the state of the relationship between Savannah Jordan and Roman Reigns, and it looks like it may just come to a head tonight!"

"Savannah looks absolutely furious!" agreed JBL. "If the two of them can't work together then you have to wonder if this match-up will work out! And after all that talk of teamwork she gave to Team Hell No earlier. Talk about hypocrisy."

"Are you insane?!" Roman hissed.

"Damn right I am! Seriously Roman, I'm starting. Get out of the ring." Much to my surprise, this time around he actually listened to me, stepping through the ropes and standing on the apron. AJ banished Bryan to the same position, the ref called for the bell and it was on.

For the first five or so minutes, the match was very 50/50. AJ and I were giving each other hell, a constant back-and-forth with several pin attempts and a couple of near-falls. AJ was pissing me off royally. Every time she managed to knock me down, she would skip around like a moron, point at me, laugh, or pull me up by my hair and thrust me at Roman, trying to make me tag out.

"You think _you're_ crazy?!" I screamed at her now, gripping her by the hair near her ears and executing a hair pull mat slam. I squatted down by her head, laid on my side and trapped her head between my legs, slapping on a headscissors. "There's only one crazy chick around here, honey, and it ain't you!" I applied more pressure.

"Break the hold, Savannah!" the ref suddenly ordered me. "One, two, three-" I turned my head and saw that I'd thrown AJ far enough that she'd managed to get her foot on the bottom rope. I unlatched my legs and stood up with a huff, deciding it was time for me to back out. I moved to my corner and slapped Roman on the hand. AJ quickly scuttled to her own corner and did the same to Daniel.

There was no love lost here. Roman immediately backed Daniel up into our corner and smacked him clean around the face. He did this a couple of times before grabbing hold of him and hitting Daniel with a scoop slam. Roman then went for a quick pin, but Daniel kicked out at two.

Frustrated, Roman then proceeded to stamp on and kick Bryan's chest before going for another pin. Another kick out. Daniel grabbed hold of the middle rope to recuperate, but Roman pressed his entire body weight onto the small man, choking him. The ref started the DQ count, and Roman broke at four.

Daniel then took a second as the ref reprimanded Roman, but the second the Samoan moved back, Daniel clocked him in the gut, and then the head. Roman retaliated with a knee to the stomach and lifted Bryan over his shoulders, setting up for a Samoan drop but Daniel managed to worm his way out and dropped to the floor before somehow managing to hit Roman with a belly-to-back suplex. I could feel the impact of Roman hitting the mat from here.

The use of strength had taken something out of Daniel, however, and the two men laid in the middle of the ring. It was just a question of who would get up first. Daniel made it to the corner and was pulling himself up just as Roman made it to his feet. Roman charged but Daniel stepped out of the way just in time, forcing Roman to collide with the post. Roman crumpled and Daniel tried dragging him to the middle of the ring, but Roman connected his foot with Daniel's chest, forcing him to let go and allowing Roman to get back to his feet. He utterly unloaded blows on Daniel, leaving not even a second for Bryan to retaliate.

"Come on, Roman!" I shouted, brushing my hair out of my eyes. "He's like half your size! End him!"

"Shut up, Savannah!" he shouted back, momentarily taking his eyes off Daniel to glare at me.

It was a moment too long.

It was completely involuntary. I hadn't meant to do it. Daniel took advantage of my accidental distraction and took Roman down with several kicks to the backs of his knees followed by a jumping knee drop. He rolled Roman onto his front, wrenched back his head and…shit. _Shit_. He applied the No! Lock.

Roman was struggling, attempting to drag himself to or reach a rope but Daniel had him firmly in the middle of the ring. I slipped myself through the ropes and went to break the hold when out of nowhere AJ appeared and hit me with a crossbody, taking me down too.

I smacked my face into the mat and was momentarily dazed. I vaguely registered AJ pulling me up into a standing position and I suddenly found myself trapped in the Black Widow, excruciating pressure being applied to my neck and back. Huh. So this is what it felt like. I couldn't help myself, and I began to tap wildly.

To add insult to injury, I heard the bell ring, followed by Bryan's music; Roman had tapped too. We'd lost. This was the first tag match The Shield had lost, intergender or otherwise. I'd lost my chance at the title. Roman's momentum going into Payback had been halted. And it was my fault.

"Ladies and gentlemen, for the first time in tag team competition, The Shield has been defeated!" declared Lilian. "Your winners by submission: AJ Lee and Daniel Bryan!"

I was released from AJ's hold and collapsed to my knees, coughing and spluttering. Yes chants echoed all around me, and I felt sick. A hand closed around my upper arm and I was hauled to my feet. I found myself staring into Roman's ice cold grey eyes. Oh fuck.

"Locker room. Now." I couldn't even remotely argue with that voice.

I rolled out of the ring and Roman followed, his hand immediately going back to my upper arm. Behind us, the music died down and our theme song started up again, signaling the start of Dean and Seth's match. Roman wasn't hanging around to support them.

Nobody got in his way as he dragged me through the backstage area, every single stagehand we encountered scattered in sheer terror. Once we reached our changing room, Roman paused, pointing at the door. "Get in."

"What if I don't want to?" I tried to counter, but the scowl Roman shot me sent me flying into the room on my own accord. Roman followed and closed the door behind him, flipping the lock. I now had a very large, very uncomfortable feeling of déjà vu, and I didn't like it. The room was almost silent, apart from the TV we'd left on from earlier. It was showing Dean and Seth's match, which had started, but we were paying no attention.

"What the fuck was that out there?" Roman asked, his voice calm. Dangerously calm.

"...I fucked up?" I said quietly, voicing it like a question.

"You're damn right you fucked up!" he shouted, 'calm' going straight out the fucking window. "I had it! I had Bryan where I wanted him and because of you, I got completely thrown off my game!"

"Don't you dare!" I yelled back, suddenly forgetting about being scared as fury flooded through me. "Don't you fucking dare blame all of this on me! You didn't have to listen to me! You could have kept fighting! You fucked up just as badly when you decided to pay more attention to me than Bryan!"

He let out a derisive laugh. "Of course! It can't just be your fault, can it? You've always gotta find someone else to blame, haven't you?!"

"When I'm defending myself, I fucking do!" I screeched. "I don't fucking get you, Roman! One minute you're being all sweet to me, and nice, and listening to me! You fucking listened, Roman, you are the first person to do that and not run away! But then you turn a switch and are nothing but cold to me! Do you even realise how fucking much that hurts me?!"

"Oh sure, it hurts you," he said dismissively. "Nothing hurts you, you're very fond of pointing that out! You're the hardest bitch I know!"

"You _don't_ fucking know me, Roman!" I shouted. "You don't know me even remotely! You might be one of the few people who knows about my childhood but don't you _dare_ think that means you know anything about who I am, Roman! I would have happily tried to make amends and be friends with you, but you have had it out for me from my first fucking day on the main roster! What the fuck is your problem?!"

"I don't have a fucking problem!" he yelled.

"Yes you fucking do or you wouldn't be so fucking hostile!" I cried. "So either fucking tell me why the fuck you hated me on sight or I swear to fucking God, I will knock the teeth out of your mouth!"

"Oh, you wanna hit me? You wanna try and hit me?" Roman laughed at me again. "Go on then. Hit me! You've already tried once today, why not make it a second time? Hit me!"

So I did. And it wasn't just a slap. I clenched my fist and full-on punched Roman in the face. He stumbled backwards, clutching his jaw.

I vaguely registered the sound of the bell ringing on the TV and Randy Orton's music playing; Seth and Dean had also lost. But I couldn't even think about that because Roman had abruptly seized hold of me by the shoulders and maneuvered me backwards until he had me pressed up against the wall. The déjà vu returned, stronger than ever.

His arms came up either side of my head and he bent down so his eyes were level with mine. A small trickle of blood was leaking from the corner of his mouth where my fist had connected, and his eyes were so dark they were almost black. I was shaking, but I honestly couldn't tell if I was scared or…or if I was turned on. Our faces were so close…

Close enough to kiss. All I'd have to do is lean forward and our lips would touch. I could do it. I could.

But I didn't.

Roman and I just stared at each other, silently daring the other to make their move. After a minute, I cracked. "Wh-what do you want from me?" I whispered shakily.

Roman moved his face closer to mine. Our noses brushed. "What do I want? Haven't I made it obvious since the day you got here, Sav?" he said lowly. "I want-"

 _BANG BANG BANG._ "I don't give a flying fuck if you two are fucking in there, open the fucking door before I tear it off its fucking hinges!" Dean's incensed snarl came through the door.

Roman heaved an irritated, heavy sigh. "I want them to fuck off." He dropped his arms from either side of my head and crossed the room in four strides, leaving me a trembling mess against the wall. What did he mean?! What had he been trying to make obvious?! _ROMAN YOU CAN'T JUST LEAVE IT THERE!_ I wanted to shout.

"-you fucked up when you took that RKO! They fucked up! The only one who hasn't fucked up tonight is me!" Dean was spitting at Seth as they stormed into the room.

"Oh, shut up, Dean!" Seth snapped. "They got lucky! That's all! They all just got lucky! It doesn't matter! At Payback that luck ends! We all retain! That's what's gonna happen!" He turned around and saw me still leaning against the wall. I probably looked like I'd seen a ghost. "Savvy? You okay there?"

"Yeah. I, er, I mean…yeah. Yeah. I'm fine. Yeah," I said dazedly. I finally gained the use of my legs again, so I stepped forward and placed my hand on Roman's shoulder, turning him to face me and deciding to do this in front of both Seth and Dean to prove a point.

"Roman…we can't keep going on like this," I said softly, looking up at him through my lashes. "It's not fair on Dean and Seth, it's not fair on us and now it's costing us matches. It's not right. I know it's gonna take a lot of work and I know this might backfire miserably on us, but we need to _try_. So…what do you say?" I offered him my hand. "This is me, calling a ceasefire and a truce. And…and this is me saying that I want to be friends, if you'll let us be."

Roman paused for a second. I could tell he was thinking it through.

"What the fuck is happening right now?" muttered Seth.

"I don't know, but I think I'm gonna throw up," Dean muttered back.

Roman took hold of my hand and shook it twice before giving me a small smile. "Friends. I think that could work." I smiled back at him and, somewhat hesitantly, held my arms up and wrapped them around his neck. Equally hesitantly, Roman wrapped his around my waist.

Something had changed. The second he touched me, the butterflies had erupted in my stomach stronger than I had ever felt before. It scared me. It scared me so much I almost tore myself away and ran, ran out the arena and never looked back. But I didn't. I stayed there, and I hugged Roman. I didn't want to let go.

My relationship with him would never be the same again, but I couldn't tell if it was for better or worse.

* * *

 **A/N- Woah. Now this is one hell of a long chapter. I'd love, love,** _ **love**_ **to know what you thought of it, so PLEASE review, I would love to get some more reviews, they mean so much and I will always listen to any ideas! We're doing a little time skip next chapter to really get the ball rolling, but I promise it's gonna be worth it! So again, review, and see you soon! Much love! Xx Gee xX**

 **PS- It occurred to me that I haven't updated my playlist in literally FOREVER, so below is the music from chapter 7 to now! The link to the playlist is on my profile! ^_^**

 **Chapter 7-  
** _ **Panic! At The Disco - Victorious**_

 **Chapter 8-  
** _ **Britney Spears - If U Seek Amy  
**_ _ **Elizabeth Gillies - You Don't Know Me**_

 **Chapter 9-  
** _ **Nicki Minaj ft Eminem - Roman's Revenge  
**_ _ **Papa Roach - Scars  
**_ _ **Fergie - Clumsy**_

 **Chapter 10-  
** _ **Busted - Psycho Girl**_

 **Chapter 11-  
** _ **Miley Cyrus - Fly On The Wall  
**_ _ **Porcelain and the Tramps - My Leftovers**_

 **Chapter 12-  
** _ **Eminem - Without Me  
**_ _ **Porcelain Black - One Woman Army  
**_ _ **Taylor Swift - Blank Space**_

 **PPS - Don't forget to check out my Polyvore collection at zombies-and-harlequins!**


	13. One, Two, Savvy's Coming For You

**A/N- A big thank you to grrlygrrl, Shield316 and Lynn021 for reviewing!**

* * *

 **Chapter Thirteen - One, Two, Savvy's Coming For You**

* * *

 _ **~ Four Months Later ~  
~ Thursday October 31**_ _ **st**_ _ **2013 ~**_

* * *

 _ **SavvyAsHellWWE: I am the one hiding under your stairs! Fingers like snakes and spiders in my hair! This is Halloween, this is Halloween! #PartyTime  
**_ _ **Tweeted 10/31/2013 14.49PM**_

"You motherfucker! Just! Slice! The! Zombie!" I shouted, throwing my PS3 controller down on the couch and scaring Robin to death. He let out a yelp of panic and skittered his little legs off of the couch, speeding away from me. "Shit! Robin! Baby, I'm sorry! Robin! ROBIN!" I poked at the Start button to pause _Lollipop Chainsaw_ and proceeded to chase Robin around the living room, through the dining room and around the kitchen. It was at times like this I regretted moving out of my Winter Park apartment and into a three-bedroomed house half an hour outside of Orlando. I now lived in Sanford, Florida.

I know what you're thinking. How could I suddenly afford a $1,300-per-month house which was about three times the size of my old apartment? Well, aside from the fact the boys and I were some of the top stars in the company, some very…interesting events had taken place over the last few months. Let me back up a little.

Dean was still running wild as the US Champion – though even I can admit he probably wasn't defending it enough. Eh, not like it was my problem - but Seth and Roman had lost their Tag Team titles during on October 14th to Cody Rhodes and Goldust. They were _pissed_ , and that's putting it mildly. They planned on getting them back, of course, and I'd sworn to do everything I could to help them. It hadn't worked. There had been a Triple Threat for the championship at Hell in a Cell between them, the Rhodes brothers and the Usos, the Rhodes brothers had come out on top yet again.

Onto the money side of things. For starters, my merch and The Shield's merch were selling like hotcakes, so much so that I now had a hoodie, a sweater and two different types of bag being sold with my name and symbol plastered across them. It was great. The rest of the money was coming from The Authority, which consisted of Stephanie McMahon and her potato-looking husband Hunter Hearst Helmsley.

 _No,_ we hadn't 'sold out.' We were very much our own bosses still but when you're asked to take care of things causing problems for the COO, you don't really argue. Plus, when you're getting $8000 thrown at you every week for your services, you _definitely_ don't argue. Besides, it was funny getting beat the shit out of any Superstars we were pointed at. Most recently, our job had been to keep the WWE Championship on Randy Orton, which he had beaten Daniel Bryan for at Hell in a Cell with a little help from special referee Shawn Michaels. I know, it's weird, but we'd made an uneasy truce with The Viper since he was a part of Triple H's cult, as I affectionately (not) referred to it.

My pursuit of the Divas Championship had also taken a backseat recently. AJ had brought Kaitlyn's reign to a juddering halt at Payback and completely knocked her out of the title picture when she retained at Money in the Bank. She'd been champion ever since and frankly, I couldn't have cared less at this point. I had bigger things to worry about than that overgrown earring of a title belt.

I was getting opportunities Divas could sometimes only dream of. Finally my hard work for the last eleven years was paying off. I was getting into altercations with the male talent, I was involved in intergender matches where I could take on the guys, I'd been in the main event of Raw and SmackDown whenever the boys had. I was living on Cloud 9 and nothing was gonna drag me down.

Well. Almost nothing.

First things first, things between Roman and I were good. Great, even. Don't get me wrong, we still had time where we disagreed with each other but we'd learned to talk through things rather than just screaming at each other. We hung out, _successfully_ tagged together and over the course of the last few months, we'd become as close as I was with Seth and Dean.

This didn't mean the feelings I had for him had gone away, though. If anything they'd just grown stronger. We'd never spoken about what had happened after our blow-up at each other in June. I'd never asked him what he'd been 'making obvious since I got here.' I was too nervous to. I was falling hard, but I was trying to crush it under the heavy stone of my heart and it wasn't fucking working.

Roman would never want a deranged, messed up, scarred, damaged girl like me. He deserved a girl who knew how to love someone without getting hurt, a girl whose past wasn't riddled with alcohol and white powder, a girl who didn't get a thrill out of breaking other people before they could break her. I'd take being his friend over being nothing any day.

So it wasn't that what had the power to bring me down. For the first time since my arrival in April, it wasn't Roman and I causing the tension in the group. It was Dean.

Ever since Roman and Seth had lost the tag titles, Dean had become almost unbearably cocky since he was the only member of The Shield with a championship. He was a cocky son of a bitch anyway but somehow it had gotten worse over the last couple of weeks. Seth was just sort of taking it with a pinch of salt but I could tell it was really starting to get to Roman.

It was partly because of this that I had decided to throw a Halloween party tonight. None of the roster had any shows until Sunday night so I'd gathered up a large group of Superstars and Divas that I actually like and decided to give us all a night off. Just a night of good music, drinking, wearing awesome costumes and - hopefully - no tension.

"Baby, don't run from Mommy when she's trying to love you!" I chastised Robin when I finally caught him, scooping him up and cuddling him close. He was so small that he fit in the palm of my hand- though his legs dangled off. Dean was fond of calling him a blow-dried rat, much to my irritation. Robin's little tongue darted out and licked my hand, so I carried him back the couch and set him down, handing him a treat which he eagerly bit into.

I sat down next to him and grabbed my PS3 controller, pressing Start again to resume playing. _Lollipop Chainsaw_ was hands down the most fucked up, psychedelic game I had ever played. Playing as a cheerleader called Juliet Starling, I carried my decapitated boyfriend's talking head on my hip as I slayed zombies with my pink bedazzled chainsaw.

" _Zombies taste like chainsaw death!_ "Juliet cheered on-screen as I sliced through the crotch of a zombie cop.

" _Dying hurts sooo baaaad_ ," the zombie groaned. I had been obsessed with this game since I first bought it last week, though I hadn't had many opportunities to play since I'd only got off the road yesterday afternoon.

"Suck a dick, bitch!" I shouted in glee as the zombie exploded in a shower of sparkles and rainbows. I played for about two more hours, finally shutting down when the clock hanging in the kitchen struck midday. Figuring I'd probably killed enough brain cells, I shut my PlayStation down and wandered through to the kitchen.

My house had an open floor space so everything was connected with open archways rather than doors, so it was easy for Robin to have free reign over the house and follow me around without getting blocked by the doors. The size had intimidated him when we'd first moved here at the start of September, but he'd grown to love having the space to run around.

As I opened the fridge and looked for some cheese, ham and a couple of eggs to make an omelette, Robin made a low whine at me. "What's the matter, baby?" I asked, squatting down and running my finger over his angora-like hair. He whined at me again before running away, his claws clattering against first the marble kitchen floor, then the floorboards of the living area. "Oh, Jesus Christ. Stop running!"

I hurried after him, only to find him propped up against the glass doors that opened from the living room into the backyard. "Aw, does Robin need to go to the bathroom?" I cooed. It had taken several weeks of piss all over my floors and yelling at a distraught ball of fluff, but Robin was finally toilet trained.

I opened the door and pushed the doorstop next to it to keep it open. Robin immediately shot outside, so I slipped on my Savannah hoodie which had been on the couch, grabbed my lighter and a cigarette from the packet on the coffee table and lit up as I followed him out. I was supposed to be giving this up, but things were so stressful at work at the minute that I couldn't commit. I'd cut down from ten a day to five, so that was progress in itself.

"Robin, no!" I said sharply as he wandered dangerously close to the edge of the pool. "Bad! You'll drown!" He 'arf'ed at me and scurried away, doing laps of the garden while I smoked down to the filter. The sound of the doorbell echoed inside, so I stubbed my cigarette out on the wall and flicked it away, calling Robin to follow me.

"You took your damn time," I teased as I opened the front door. "You were supposed to be here this morning."

"Sorry, baby girl, my flight got delayed by like, two hours," replied Roman, stepping through the door with his overnight bag in his hand.

"Well, be grateful that the only reason I haven't gone Psycho Rose on your ass is because you agreed to help me set up," I said, giving him a hug. "How're you feeling after Monday?"

The four of us had left Monday Night Raw in a less-than-perfect state. We'd been standing guard for The Authority as they introduced Randy as the face of the company. The next thing we knew, a barred Big Show had come storming down the ramp and we'd be sent to attack. We hadn't banked on Show having back up and found ourselves being dragged back up to the stage by the Usos, Cody Rhodes and Goldust, who dumped us in the middle of the crowd of Superstars to have their way with us.

"I've felt worse, let's put it that way. A few bruises, nothing drastic. How are your ribs after Nikki tried stomping a mudhole through you?" he asked, hugging me back.

My feud with the Bella Twins was hotter than ever, what with The Shield's ongoing problems with Daniel Bryan…and the fact that during my match with Nikki back in June, I'd fractured her tibia when I rammed her off the apron. Yeah, she _really_ didn't like that since I'd put her out of action until last week's SmackDown. I shrugged. "No blood, no foul."

"Now, remind me why it's me you specifically requested to help with this?"

"Because you had the shortest flight time to Orlando International," I reminded him. "Seth's got shit to do before he catches his flight and Dean is Dean and refuses to be here until there's booze, plus his flight is over four hours long."

"Why is it always me who draws the short straw?" he joked. He ran his eyes over me a few times. "So you've dressed specifically for the occasion, huh?"

In addition to my Savannah hoodie, I was also wearing skinny jeans with one black leg and one tartan leg, black and red Converse and a navel-exposing black vest displaying the original cover for _The Curse of Frankenstein_. I shrugged. "I am literally the queen of all things horror and macabre. This day may as well have been made for me. This is Halloween, this is Halloween! Hallo-"

I was fully prepared to burst into _This Is Halloween_ from _The Nightmare Before Christmas_ but Roman clapped his hand over my mouth to cut me off. "You might be one of my best friends but please don't sing."

I pouted at him as he removed his hand. "You three are so mean to me about my singing. Maybe I'll ask to perform on Raw. You'll have nowhere to run then." I don't know what stung more; the burn on my less-than-stellar singing voice or the blatant friendzoning.

"No, we won't," he agreed as I led him up the stairs to the first spare room. "Instead we'll just watch the ratings bomb through the floor."

"Oh, ow, man," I gasped, pressing my hand over my heart. "See, this is why I hit you! You're horrible to me! I could probably sue for verbal abuse in the workplace." I paused outside the first door on the right of the top floor. "Right, asshole, this is you."

"Now that is how you introduce a room," he said with a grin. He pushed open the door and stepped inside, looking around. "Damn, baby girl. You seriously upgraded from Winter Park, huh?"

For my first guest room, I'd gone with a fresh and crisp decor. The walls were a pale mint green, the furniture was washed white pine and the bed was wrought iron with white covers. The other guest room had a neutral colour scheme, all fawn and wood. "Yeah, well, this is the only thing that makes me partway alright with taking what feels like black market money," I muttered, leaning against the door frame.

Roman groaned. "Not this again, Sav. You know why we're doing this."

"Yeah, and _you_ know that I think there's something funky going on," I retorted.

"What's the problem? We've been hired to deal with people making life difficult for The Authority," he replied fairly. "What's that? Oh yeah, an injustice."

"I didn't see any injustice when we attacked Christian for no reason!" I said heatedly.

"Sav, that was almost two months ago. You know why we did that."

"He didn't do anything wrong!"

"No, but Edge did and since we couldn't put our hands on him…"

"I agreed with like eighty percent of what Edge was saying! Did you beat the shit out of me too? Oh, no, that's right, of course fucking not."

"I didn't see you hesitating when you smashed that vase over Christian's head."

"Roman, just don't, okay?"

"I really don't want to have this argument again."

"Neither do I. So let's just…leave it, alright? Today's meant to be relaxed and fun." I looked up at the clock at the wall to break our somewhat intense eye contact and blanched when I saw the hand creeping past the 12.30 point. "Shit, is that the time?! I'd offer you lunch, Ro, but we're gonna have to get going if we wanna get everything sorted before people start turning up."

"Lead the way, Little Red. Just tell me what to do," he said, following me out of the room. It was moments like these that made me so grateful Roman and I had made up and become friends.

* * *

"If you even remotely scratch my new baby, I will end you. Just a warning," I said sweetly once we were in my driveway and I pressed the button to open my garage door.

"New baby?" Roman frowned. "What do you- holy _shit,_ Sav." He'd just laid eyes on the car sitting in the garage; my brand new midnight blue convertible Audi RS5.

"Isn't it gorgeous?!" I said excitedly. "I've only had it a week! I didn't even think I wanted a new car but I was driving past the luxury dealership in town and…I just fell in love!"

"What happened to poor old Cas?" he questioned as I unlocked the car and he sat in the passenger seat.

"I traded him in," I admitted, settling myself in and starting the engine. "He knocked like a thousand dollars off the price!"

"Betrayed for money," Roman joked, shaking his head as we hit the road.

"When he got me this bad boy, you're damn right I betrayed him for money," I shot back with a giggle as we settled into a relaxing drive, listening to Katy Perry.

"So what time are people arriving to this thing?" Roman asked me.

"Well, I wanted to give the people that don't live nearby time to get all fabulous - though I know a lot of people flew into Orlando yesterday and stayed overnight at a hotel - so I said things'll kick off at about seven thirty and people can leave whenever they want," I replied.

"And who are the 'people' coming, exactly?"

"Okay, well for starters, do you even _realise_ how hard it was for me to find dudes I could actually invite?" I groused. "Like seriously, I didn't even realise who you haven't beaten up all that much when I was making the shortlist! Still, on the Superstar side of things, there's Tyson, Zack, Heath, Jinder, your cousins - though that took a little persuading - Wade, Damien, Dolph, Justin, Jack, Antonio and Miz. Randy said he 'might swing by if I can be bothered, since being the face of the company is a very draining thing.'"

"You managed to find that many guys?" Roman sounded highly amused.

"You're just lucky most of them like me over you guys. It was a lot harder to find some Divas to invite, but luckily AJ and the Bellas haven't turned _all_ of them against me. Aksana, Kaitlyn, Renee, Tamina and Layla are all coming, plus Nattie and Naomi on the condition they leave those fucking _Total Divas_ cameras behind."

"Jesus, that is a lot of people. We're gonna have to empty the supermarket shelves," he commented. "Those for today as well?" he gestured at my nails as I tapped them on the steering wheel. I'd had a manicure last night and they were painted to look like blood splatters.

"Nah, just didn't wash my hands after I buried that dude in the backyard before you got here," I said casually.

"You're so fucked up," Roman chuckled, pulling at my hair.

"Fucked up but adorable," I giggled, taking my eyes off the road for a split second to stick my tongue out at him.

* * *

 ** _Roman POV_**

I loved the sound of Sav's laugh. It meant she was letting down that wall she constantly had up around herself, even if it was just for a moment. She smiled, and she goofed off, and she looked…happy. It took a lot for a girl to get under my skin the way Sav had, but damn it, she'd found a way.

I'd made no secret that she'd really pissed me off her first day on the roster. Her attitude problem had filled MetLife Stadium and seeped into the parking lot. Then again, none of us had expected her to open the door in just her underwear. Anyone else would have been embarrassed and hid. Nope, she stood there, bold as anything, before finding a way to sass each of us. Did I find her attractive? You're fucking right I did. But I couldn't stand her either.

She got worse as the weeks moved on. She was cocky, she was temperamental, she was irritatingly loud, she could lash out over nothing and anything, and she was violent as hell. But she was talented. Jesus, was she talented. She pulled moves in that ring that hadn't been seen in women's wrestling since Lita herself. She mowed down every last Diva that stepped in her way.

I don't know when I realised that I liked Sav a lot more than I was willing to let on. Probably around the time Seth and Dean were trying to force us into getting along, coincidentally the same time I started being an even bigger dick to her. Workplace relationships weren't a good idea. I didn't care how well it'd worked out for Jimmy and Naomi, Dean was walking proof of what Sav was like as a girlfriend. That didn't stop me wanting her, so I thought if I acted like a dickhead then eventually I'd get over it. I didn't bank on her constantly fighting and arguing back, God knows why. She was so fucking fiery, which only fuelled how much I wanted her.

Then came the week we stayed with her in Winter Park after she fucked up her face. I'd never seen someone so down in my life. She'd looked like a zombie when she answered the door. She hadn't been sleeping properly, her apartment littered with junk food and I was 90% sure she hadn't showered. The gentleman in me wanted to hug her and tell her she'd be okay. Instead, the moron in me just mocked her about it.

Things got a little weird after that. First was the gym. All I was doing was talking to the new Divas. Okay, I knew Sav didn't _like_ the new Divas but I didn't expect her and the red one – Eva or whatever her name was – to start passive-aggressively trading verbal blows. I sure as hell wasn't expecting Sav to seem so…jealous, or to whip her top off for practically no reason. And I _definitely_ didn't expect to see that huge scar slashed along her lower stomach.

I tried to keep my mouth shut about it. For the rest of that week, I said nothing. Mostly because I was never alone with her and I didn't want to bring it up in front of Dean or Seth in case they didn't know. When we ended up in that McDonald's together in Calgary, I knew it was my chance. Sav was tired, I could tell. It was a dick move, but I tried catching her off-guard. Damn, did that backfire. The change in her was instant. It was like part of her shut down and I knew I couldn't press the subject.

When that douchebag decided to start getting handsy with her, I saw red. The little punk was lucky I didn't break every finger he laid on her. Even with that added anger, though, I was still doing what any guy in my position would have done. I didn't expect Sav to feel so grateful she'd suddenly spill her life story in the car on the way to the hotel.

I'm a grown ass man, and her story managed to break my heart. To go through all that when she was so young…I could finally see why she acted the way she did. And I hated myself for treating her the way I had. So I tried making it right by stopping the car and holding her close while she sobbed. In that moment, she wasn't the headstrong, aggressive Sav I knew. She was scared little fifteen-year-old Annah Jordan who just wanted her real mom and dad back. I almost made my move that night, but Ambrose's phone call put paid to the mood almost immediately.

Naturally it all went to shit the next day. First she freaked out in the dining room and if looks could kill, that waitress would have been decomposing six foot under. When I heard the glass break I thought Sav was honestly about to stab the woman. On top of that, she'd then had a minor breakdown in the gym later that morning. At least I'd had the opportunity to admire the view beforehand as she'd practiced her yoga. I'd never seen someone so flexible. The way she moved and bent her body around…it made my dick jump in my pants just looking at her.

I'd thought things were okay. I thought I could talk to her about how she'd acted. Big mistake. She tore my head off, played soccer with it then crudely sewed it back on my neck, and then screamed at me at the top of her lungs for good measure. She had so many issues. She was making my life so difficult, but goddamn it, I wanted her so badly.

The day after that, the gossip article came out about her and Seth being together…and I could have killed Rollins with my bare hands. He'd got to her before I could pull my head out of my ass, or so I'd thought.

He and Sav had clicked the second they met, and that bond grew as every day passed, it was clear to anyone. They were always together, and it pissed me off anyway, not that I'd have ever said anything. It wasn't any stretch of the imagination to think they'd take the next step and start dating. To me, that article couldn't have seemed anymore legit.

My blood boiled as I read through the article on my phone, the link appearing on my Twitter timeline. Just the pictures almost made me shatter the screen. I needed to know the truth. In retrospect, I should have just asked her if it was true instead of assuming it was and proceeding to scare the crap out of the poor girl, but I was so fucked off at supposedly being lied to that I was beyond reason. Thank God I set off her vibrator (never thought I'd say that) and diffused the worst of the tension, otherwise I was gonna put my fist through the wall.

They both denied it enough to the point I had to believe them. But they still spent all their time together, Dean was constantly ribbing them about it and half the roster was talking about it. So we kept arguing because it was the easiest way for me to mask how I really felt about her. But even I hadn't meant for it to get so out of hand as it had that night at the SmackDown taping.

I knew she didn't mean to distract me like that. I knew she didn't mean to cost us that match. But she did. That's all I could focus on. We'd lost, and it was her fault. The Samoan rage in me overtook all rational thoughts and that red mist descended again. I wanted to scream at her, to shake her, to fucking _hurt_ her. I'd never laid my hands on a woman, but in that moment I wanted to because she just _infuriated_ me so much. Clearly she felt the same way because she was getting in my face just as much, demanding to know what my problems with her was or she was gonna hit me.

 _You. You're my problem. I can't get you out of my fucking head and you drive me so goddamn crazy that I can't think straight!_ is what I wanted to say. What I should have said. Nope. I laughed at her yet again and told her to hit me. The next thing I knew, her fist had connected with my jaw and I had her pressed against the wall, all in a split second, it felt like.

I could see her shaking. I watched her pupils dilate. She was either terrified, or she was turned on, and the worst part was I couldn't tell. We were so close, I wanted to keep her up against that wall, rip her clothes off and fuck her so hard she forgot her own name.

 _What do you want from me?_ she'd asked. This was it. My chance to tell her the truth, to deal with the shit we were putting each other through. To see if she felt the same way. But…no. Dean put an end to that too by trying to knock down the door. I was surprised that Sav was the one to suggest putting an end to our so-called animosity regardless. How could I say no? The hug she gave me sparked every nerve in my body. If she wanted to put everything behind us, so did I.

And this brought us to today. Sure, we still had our differences on occasion, but we worked them out. We didn't need to argue, and suddenly life was a lot easier than it had been before. Our conversation from that day was never spoken of again, and I'd never told her what I wanted, or that I wanted her. I was perfectly happy with how things were for the time being. Okay, happyish.

"Yeah, I think I'm just gonna stick with fucked up," I teased her now.

She glared at the road. "You're just proving my abuse case."

"You know we only do it because we love you," I told her, stretching my arm out across the seats so my hand rested behind her headrest. It was the closest I'd get to putting my arm around her.

"You're buying me a coffee now," she announced. "I've decided that's the appropriate compensation for tearing down my self-esteem. And how lucky for you that there's a Starbucks right next to the Kmart. A grande pumpkin spice latte should do nicely."

"So not only are you fucked up and adorable, you're also the whitest white girl ever. Got it."

"I'll forgive that last dig seeing as how you just admitted you think I'm adorable." Oh, shit. "Your manly too-cool-for-school façade is finally slipping, Reigns."

"I was just repeating what you said," I said smoothly, mentally punching myself in the face several times for slipping up.

"I'll believe whatever you want me to," she said sweetly. "Because I, unlike you, am a nice person, and I, unlike you, care about my friends' feelings." There was silence for a few moments. "Hehehe, you think I'm adorable."

"Damn it, Sav."

"Hey, can I ask you something?" she suddenly said.

I raised an eyebrow, surprised. When did she ever ask permission to speak? She usually just came out with whatever, zero fucks given. "Er, yeah?"

"So…like, I've been wanting to add a few more moves to my set," she began, sounding almost awkward. "And I've been thinking about a couple of submissions, but then…like, you and the guys all have your double team moves. You three have the triple powerbomb, you and Seth do that back breaker-high knee thing, Seth, Dean and I do a triple suicide dive…and I thought, since I'd also kinda like to add something a little more heavy-hitting…Jesus, I'm basically asking if you'll train me to use the Superman Punch."

That took me aback. "You want to use my move?"

"Well…yeah. I've always liked it and it shouldn't be too hard to pick up. So, if it's cool with you…I'd really like to adopt it," she said sheepishly. A slight blush crept over her pale cheeks. She looked so cute.

"Do you want me to train you?" I asked.

"Would you? I mean, I'd rather learn from the best so I don't _totally_ fuck it up."

"Of course I will. Any time you wanted to start?"

Looking away from the road again, Sav gave me the biggest smile I'd ever seen. "I'd love to have got it down before Survivor Series. I mean, I know we only just got done with Hell in a Cell and no one is even booked for Survivor Series yet, but come on. We're us, we're bound to have a match. I think it'd be awesome if I first tried it on pay-per-view."

"So that's, what, four weeks? Easy." She'd pick it up, no problems. "Let's get tonight and tomorrow's hangover out the way and we can get started. If you want."

"I owe you for this, Ro. Big time. You're so lucky I'm driving right now because otherwise I would hug you so hard your eyes would pop out."

"How the hell did you manage to make a hug sound like a murder method?"

* * *

She really did make me buy her that damn latte when we arrived at the store, not that I was surprised. However, the second we stepped down the Kmart Halloween aisle, she reverted from a somewhat sophisticated 25-year-old woman to a 12-year-old jacked up on jelly beans and cotton candy. She was bouncing off the fucking walls.

"Oh my God, YAY!" she squealed, clutching about ten plastic gravestones in her arms. "We're totally building a graveyard in the front yard!" She tipped all ten of them into the cart she'd forced me to push before darting over to the skeleton display. "Well this dude is obviously getting stuck on the front door." She hauled down a five-foot tall skeleton which also went into the cart, along with some plastic spiders, fake black sticks, a few cauldrons, cardboard crow decals, a skull and an electronic lantern for good measure.

"And all this is gonna go on the yard?" I said doubtfully, but I was grinning; I'd never seen her so excited.

"No, silly!" she exclaimed. "Aside from the gravestone, this is what will go on the porch!"

"The _porch_?" I repeated incredulously. "Red, you don't think this is gonna be a little…overkill?"

"First off, good pun," she said. "Second of all, how dare you. It's Halloween, it's the best day of the year! Overkill is perfectly acceptable. Killjoy. Ooh, now that is a weird horror movie. Well. Horror is a loose term there."

"So what, you're gonna turn your house into the set of _Night of the Living Dead_?"

"Essentially. Come at me, you're looking at the fucking Queen of Halloween," she said smugly, now tipping three packets of fake spider webs, some more plastic spiders, fake brown leaves and God knows what else into the cart. "There. I'd say that's enough."

"Are you sure?" I said sarcastically.

"Nope, just fucking with you," she quipped, proceeding to spend the next fifteen minutes quite literally emptying the shelves of that Kmart Halloween aisle until I could barely see over the top of the mountain of plastic in front of me.

"It's a good thing I can deadlift three hundred pounds or you'd be screwed," I huffed, manoeuvring the cart through the store as I followed Sav.

"Stop whining and deal with it," she said offhandedly, scanning her eyes over a shelf of chips. "Hey, what are you going as tonight, BTW?"

I smirked. I'd chosen my costume specifically with her in mind. Not that I was gonna tell her that. "That would be telling. You'll see later on."

"Not fair! I'm running the show around here, you _have_ to tell me!"

"Nope." I popped the 'p.' "How about you?"

"Your worst nightmare," she shot back.

"It's Halloween, Sav. You can't dress as yourself."

"Ooh, _burn_ ," she said derisively. "You're a funny fucker, aren't you, Reigns?"

"I try," I said innocently, shrugging

"Ah fuck it, we'll have two of everything," she decided, cramming half the chips on the shelf into the cart. With the amount of shit in this cart, we'd be lucky to fit it in her tiny-ass car at this rate. Still, once Sav was satisfied with emptying out the snack aisle, and the drinks aisle, and the candy aisle, she deemed what we had acceptable and actually helped me wheel the damn thing over to checkout. I won't even tell you how much it all ended up costing.

"Wow. You know, this baby has a lot more trunk space than I anticipated," she said breathlessly after spending ten minutes rearranging said trunk to attempt to get everything to fit.

"Sure, we'll pretend there aren't four bags in the backseat," I said, earning me a sharp elbow to the ribs.

"Shut up, asshole," she giggled, turning to get into the car, but I caught her by the hand to stop her. "What are you doing?"

"Giving you something," I replied, holding out a black artificial rose in my other hand. I'd seen it down the decorations aisle as we made our way around, so I grabbed it and hid it in my back jeans pocket, making sure I never stood in front of her. I'd then pretended to go to the bathroom so I could go through a self-service machine to pay.

"Roman…" her voice trailed off as I slowly dropped her hand and she took the rose, twirling it around in her fingers. "I love it, thank you!"

"It was a choice of black or red, and I know how you don't like normal things, so…black," I said, smiling at her.

"My own personal Tate Langdon," she lightly teased.

"Except I didn't massacre my senior year. Oh, and I'm not dead," I snorted.

She beamed up at me and repeated, "I really, really love it," before going up onto her tiptoes to plant a soft kiss on my cheek. God, it took all my self-control not to turn my head at the last second and kiss her like her life depended on it.

* * *

 _ **Sav POV**_

"Ew! Ewww! Roman, gross, don't! Get it off me, it's sticky!" I squealed, leaping over the back of the couch as he attempted to wrap me in the fake cobwebs for about the fourth time. We were wrapping up the decoration of my house.

The front yard now looked like a 100-year-old graveyard, the porch was covered in spiders, a skeleton, cauldrons and pumpkins, the tables inside were decorated with cute black tablecloths and cobwebs and pumpkins and I'd covered all lights in clear orange cellophane so when I dimmed them later on it would look fucking epic. The island in the kitchen was covered in bottles of booze and I'd set up a large table in the living room which displayed the food. My 40-inch flatscreen was playing all 7 _A Nightmare On Elm Street_ movies on a loop. All in all, a productive afternoon.

He laughed loudly and sprinted around the couch, narrowly missing me when I dived under his arms. "Come on, Little Red! You don't need to run!"

"Y-yes I do!" I gasped out between laughs as he finally caught up with me and proceeded to tickle me relentlessly. "S-stop! Please! I'm b-begging you! Ro-Roman!"

"Here we go." He released me for a split second and draped the last remaining sheet of webbing around my shoulders. "There. A cape for the Queen of Halloween."

"I like the rhyming you've got going on," I said, stepping away from him before he decided to go for another tickle attack. "But _ew_ , seriously, get this off me! It feels like I'm covered in…well, I'll leave the end of that sentence to your imagination."

"You, er, get covered in that often, then?" Roman said awkwardly.

My cheeks flamed. "Um…wow, would you look at the time!" I said quickly, catching sight of the clock. "No, shit, seriously, look at the time! We only have an hour! Do you mind finishing up the last of the decorations? I really, _really_ need to start getting ready!"

"Did you not think I might need to get ready too?" he shot back.

"You're a dude, you need like fifteen minutes, tops," I said dismissively. "Please?"

"...good point. Okay, I'll do it. But you owe me."

"I'm sure I'll make it worthwhile for you," I said over my shoulder as I headed up the stairs.

My bedroom was situated at the very end of the top floor corridor and, naturally, the biggest bedroom out of the three. It had a high roof with black painted exposed beams, the wall that looked out onto the backyard was a giant window and the colour scheme was a very classy black and white. Obviously the walls were still adorned with all my mega nerdy posters from Winter Park, but this bedroom had a much more _adult_ feeling to it.

After a quick five minute shower that felt like I was in _Mission: Impossible_ since Roman could come up the stairs at any moment - knowing my luck it would have been just as I opened the bathroom door - I pulled the box containing my costume out of the closet and set it on my bed. I'd had some of this stuff since the end of August, which was when I'd decided to have a party regardless of the fact I was still in that little apartment at the time.

Liquid latex and fake blood.

One distressed oversized sweater with black and red stripes since nowhere seemed to do green and red.

A pair of tiny booty shorts with skeleton hands cupping my ass because the sweater only just fell below my cheeks and I wasn't prepared to flash my co-workers.

Fishnet tights.

Four-inch high buckled knee-high platform boots.

A black fedora.

One brown glove for my right hand, knives for fingers.

They were all the ingredients for me to look like the hottest, baddest female Freddy Krueger – my favourite horror villain of all time – to ever walk the planet. I wasn't about to go to my own Halloween party as some kinda cliché witch shit or cat or something. It had been a cross between this or finding a way to sexy up a Jason Voorhees costume, but Freddy won hands down.

"Downstairs is all set, baby girl!" Roman's call startled me slightly. "I'm gonna take a shower then get ready!"

"Okay, cool!" I called back, starting to unpack the box. "Bathroom's the door across from your room!"

I dressed in everything but the hat, glove and boots, which would be going on as late as possible, then stood in front of my full-length mirror, turning this way and that. I hated thinking it, but I couldn't stop myself from wondering if Roman would like it. God, I was pathetic with a capital P. I shouldn't have cared. I was dressing for me and for the holiday, not for a man. But I did care. A lot. I shook my head to get rid of the feeling.

The clock was ticking away substantially faster than I wanted it to so I stopped admiring myself and sat down at my makeup table, throwing my damp hair into a ponytail to keep it out of my face while I prepared myself. Jesus, this was gonna take a while. I propped my phone up against a box of tissues with a video tutorial for gory makeup effects playing and got down to it, trying not to cringe at the sensation of the liquid latex touching my skin for the first time.

Fuck, I did not realise this would take so much concentration. I thought I'd be able to just dab it on, smear on some face paint and be good to go. But no. So. Much. No. I was getting tissue paper stuck to every-fuckin'-thing, there was fake blood all over the makeup table and I came within two millimetres of gluing my eye shut with the latex. Twenty minutes, that makeup took me, even after I'd decided to only gash half of my face. I looked horrific, I had to admit, like I had actually been partly burned alive. I loved it.

"Roman, you better fucking appreciate this," I muttered to myself, blasting myself in the face with my hairdryer to ensure the wound was dry before untying my hair and blowing that until it was bone-dry too. I backcombed it vigorously and sprayed it with hairspray until it resembled a ginger birds nest and plonked my fedora over the top. I slicked some red lipstick over my lips, stepped into my boots and fastened my glove onto my right hand, stealing a final look at the clock. 7.24PM. Perfect timing.

Flicking off the bedroom light and closing the door, I clomped down the hallway and banged my free hand on the door to Roman's room. "Yo! Roman, come on, let's get moving! People are gonna start arriving any minute!" The door opened. "Well it's about damn ti- ti- time…" My brain completely malfunctioned when I saw Roman's costume. My lips parted, my mouth went dry and it felt like Niagara Falls had opened up in my panties.

The man was a god. And while that's what I tended to think on a day-to-day basis, I mean he was literally dressed as a _god_. A Greek one. He was shirtless, his hair cascading down his back and around the leather armour draped over his shoulders. He was wearing the typical leather Greek-style skirt with leather wrist covers and gladiator sandals. He should have looked ridiculous. Anyone else would have. Instead, all I wanted to do was shove him back into that bedroom and ride him for the next three hours.

Roman grinned at me when he noticed me staring. "Take a picture, Red, it'll last longer."

I tore my gaze away from his abs and scoffed, placing my non-clawed hand on my hip. "Oh yeah, I'm sure there are a lot of things that can last longer than you, Reigns."

"Well Savvy, there's one way I can think of for you to find out just how long I can last," he said suggestively.

I swallowed heavily, and I didn't miss the way he ran his eyes over me, lingering at how the sweater draped at the very tops of my fishnet-clad thighs. _Do it!_ I screamed in my head. _Make the move! KISS HIM!_

"Roman," I said quietly, placing my hands on his shoulders.

"Baby girl," he murmured, resting a hand at the small of my back and pulling me close. This was it. It was finally gonna happen. He bent his head down as I stepped up onto my tiptoes…

And then the doorbell rang. SON OF A BITCH.

"I'll get it!" I said hurriedly, pulling myself away like the skin-to-skin contact had scalded me and practically fell down the stairs in my haste to get away, my face as red as a ball of fire. I heard a muffled thud behind me that sounded like Roman had just punched the wall followed by a mumble of, "Every fucking time." God, I was a fucking idiot.

The doorbell rang another three times in the forty seconds it took me to reach the front door, so I had no doubt who I was about to open it to. Sure enough, I soon came face-to-face with a Batman clutching a keg like some kind of freaking frat boy.

"Damn, Deano. When you said you were coming as 'my hero' I was honestly expecting Deadpool," I said coolly, moving to the side to let him in.

"I am not some damn cliche, thank you, Rosie!" he retorted. "Next you'll be telling me you thought I was gonna be The Joker."

"Nah, dude, that was my guess." Roman coming up behind me almost made me jump out of my skin, but I kept my cool as Dean dumped the keg of beer on the floor and enveloped Roman in a bro-hug.

"Jesus, Ro, what the fuck are you meant to be?" Dean asked him. "A gladiator?"

"Hercules, bro," Roman corrected. Well hey, at least I'd been right when I said he was a god.

"Thanks for the help back there, Ambrose. I really appreciate it." Seth's dry tones filtered into the room and he appeared in the doorway, weighted down by three litre-sized bottles of Grey Goose vodka, a bottle of Jack Daniels and…a plastic tommy gun. Okay.

"I've got you, bro," I said, quickly taking a couple of bottles out of his arms and taking them through to the kitchen. "Well Mr Rollins, you do scrub up nicely. Very suave," I added when he joined me in there, dropping off the other bottles. He was a gangster, dressed in a black pinstriped 1930s-style suit with black brogues, a black fedora like me and, as mentioned earlier, brandished a tommy gun.

"Did you expect anything else?" he joked, tweaking the lapels of his jacket by jerking them forward slightly.

"Yeah, actually. I was expecting something much more hipster," I shot back, but we hugged before I popped the top off a bottle of beer on the counter and took a swig.

"So how have things been today?" he asked me, doing the same. "You and Ro clearly didn't try to kill each other."

I rolled my eyes. "We're way past that, Seth, you know we are. It's fine, and it's been fine. All we've really done is go shopping at Kmart and decorate the house. Nothing noteworthy." I decided to neglect mentioning the black rose, which was sitting in an empty vase in my bedroom.

"What do you think of his costume?" he baited. I wasn't gonna bite.

I shrugged. "It works for him. Not a lot of guys would have the balls to wear a skirt around so many co-workers."

"Smooth cover. I'll buy it," Seth said with a snort.

"Dickhead," I muttered, giving him a shove. "Tonight is not about how I feel about Roman, okay? It's about having fun and chilling out. Don't make me stressed."

He raised his hands in innocence. "You have my word. I won't say anything. Well, for the rest of the night."

* * *

Fast forward three and a half hours to 11PM, and the party was in full swing. The drinks had been flowing the whole time seeing as everyone who turned up had brought at least two bottles of something with them, the music was loud and everyone looked fucking awesome in their costumes. Not one person had skimped out.

Now, I won't lie. I'd drunk a lot. And by a lot, I mean I was three quarters of the way towards being paralytic. Due to the fact I rarely drank alcohol anymore, my tolerance – or lack thereof – was lower than ever. Then again, everyone else was wasted too so it's not like I particularly stuck out.

"Can we ask you a question?" Renee giggled, adjusting the halo of her angel costume. I was sitting on the couch with her, Naomi – who was dressed as Cleopatra – and Nattie – Catwoman, naturally – all three of us sipping double vodka cranberries. Out of all the Divas on the roster, these were the three I was closest with, even though I had attacked Naomi during my Raw debut. Bygones being bygones and all that.

"Sure. I'm an open book, you know that," I replied. "Hit me with your best shot, Nay-Nay."

"You're gonna regret that, girl," snorted Naomi.

"Shut up, I'm an interviewer, it's what I do," Renee shot back before directing at me, "Sooo, what's the latest with you and Roman? It's _so_ obvious things are hotting up there!"

I spat out my mouthful of cranberry and spluttered, "What the shit, Renee?! N-nothing! I've told you guys this about ten times, there's nothing going on with me and Roman!"

"Then explain why every time you stand up, his eyes are immediately on you? Or rather, your ass?" said the usually straight-laced Nattie.

I was now very grateful for the layers of prosthetics covering most of my face because I was blushing so heavily it felt like my face was on fire. "Shut up, no he doesn't…" I mumbled.

"Oh my God, are you embarrassed?!" Renee crowed. "You _do_ have a thing for him, don't you?!"

"Shut _up_!" I repeated. "Why don't we talk about what's going on between you and the resident lunatic, hmm?" Renee and Dean had been flirting _a lot_ backstage recently, and everyone was speculating about what it would turn into. Part of me wondered if I should warn her about what Dean could be like as a boyfriend. Then again, for all I knew he'd matured enough to _not_ cheat on someone.

"It's going well and it's very early days. Nice try, Sav," she said flippantly.

"Worth a shot," I said with a shrug. "Look, Roman and I…it's complicated."

"What's complicated about wanting to get all hot and heavy?" Naomi bluntly asked. "Those Samoan men know how to treat a girl in the bedroom. Trust me."

"Thanks, Naomi. I appreciate the heads up," I said dryly.

"What? I'm just tryna help a sister out," she said innocently. "Jimmy wants it every day. I'm preparing you for your future."

"Okay, this has been way more personal information about Jimmy than I ever needed to know," I said, deliberately ignoring the last comment .

"I agree," Nattie said with a wrinkled nose, and the four of us looked over to where Jimmy was standing with his brother Jey - both of them dressed as Tweedledum and Tweedledee - and…oh shit. Roman. Fuck, abort staring, _abort staring_!

Nope. The second we realised Roman was there, all four of us started to giggle raucously, myself included due to how much alcohol I'd ingested. The giggling got even louder when all three of them turned to look at us, Roman quirking a brow. We all looked away, still giggling, but Renee chanced another look.

"Oh shit! Shit, he's coming over!" she gasped out, and they all three dissolved into even louder giggles.

"Shut up, all of you! Just play it cool," I begged, turning my head away and pretending to be lost in watching _A Nightmare On Elm Street 3: Dream Warriors_. "Man, I will never understand why Jennifer thought it was a good idea to walk up to that TV. I mean, bitch, you are being stalked by a demonic-"

"Good evening, ladies." Roman's rumbling voice interrupted my stupid drunken babbling.

"Mr Reigns," Nattie snorted, raising her glass to him.

"Lookin' good there, Roman," Renee said appreciatively. "We were just saying."

"Oh, really?" Roman looked highly amused.

Naomi nodded in agreement. "For sure, just don't tell my man."

"You've got my word, 'Mi," Roman promised her. "I was actually coming over here to ask Sav if she wanted to dance."

"Oooooh!" they all cooed, and I swatted at Renee's arm with my clawed hand.

"Ow, you scratched me!" she yelped.

"Good," I retorted, before grinning up at Roman. "You wanna ask little ol' me to dance?"

He nodded, a smirk gracing his lips. "I do. You up for that?"

"I'm up for anything if it involves you," I murmured, then realised what I'd said. Cue a second time of thanking the Lord for the makeup covering my blush.

Thankfully, Roman either ignored what I'd said or didn't hear. "Shall we?" He took hold of my hand and gently pulled me to my feet.

I squeezed his hand. "We shall," I said, and I allowed him to lead me into the large empty space in the middle of the living room which was the designated dancefloor. Most people had spent most of the night here, Dean and Seth included. Seth and I had devised a playlist a few days ago so the music was switching between pop, rap, pop punk and metal in a nice little loop.

"Never had you pegged for much of a dancer, Reigns," I shouted over the music after ten or so minutes, laughing as he spun me around before pulling me back to him, my hands resting on his bare chest.

"Something tells me there's a lot you don't know about me," he replied, making sure to drop his head so only I would hear.

"Is that so?" I whispered into his ear. "Like what?"

"That'd be telling, baby girl," he murmured. I shivered at his tone, spinning myself around so my back was pressed against his chest and tried to focus on my dancing. Two could play at this game, though the songs that Seth and I had put on the playlist suddenly felt way too close to home. In the space of about half an hour, there was…

 _Hold It Against Me_ by Britney Spears.  
 _If I said my heart was beating loud,  
_ _If we could escape the crowd somehow,  
_ _If I said I want your body now,  
_ _Would you hold it against me?_

 _Starstrukk_ by 3OH!3 and Katy Perry.  
 _L-O-V-E's just another word I never learned to pronounce.  
_ _How do I say I'm sorry?  
_ ' _Cause the word is never gonna come out._

 _Lovegame_ by Lady GaGa.  
 _Hold me and love me,  
_ _Just wanna touch you for a minute.  
_ _Maybe three seconds is enough,  
_ _For my heart to quit it._

 _One Track Mind_ by Papa Roach.  
 _You narcissistic lover, you complicate my life,  
_ _But then I find myself with you tonight.  
_ _You are my nemesis, the one I can't resist,  
_ _I've got a one track mind and I'm losing it._

 _Only Girl (In The World)_ by Rihanna.  
 _Want you to take it, like a thief in the night.  
_ _Hold me like a pillow, make me feel right.  
_ _Baby, I'll tell you all my secrets that I'm keepin', you can come inside.  
_ _And when you enter, you ain't leavin', be my prisoner for the night._

In my inebriated state, I'd decided it was a good idea to ground my ass against Roman's crotch, trying to push the thoughts and lyrics from my mind. It really did _not_ work, because I soon felt something very…hard underneath that leather skirt of his. This was followed by a growl resonating from deep in Roman's throat, and he moved his hands from my hips to rest on my ribs, just under my boobs.

"You're playing with fire, Little Red," he warned me, his fingers brushing dangerously close to the underwire of my bra.

"Maybe I wanna get burned," I dared myself to say, reaching up and looping an arm around Roman's neck.

"Baby girl…" he groaned, his hands trailing down my sides. Giggling, I pulled myself away so I could face him and re-laced my arms around his neck, my ears pricking up to the latest song being played. It was Katy Perry's latest single, _Dark Horse_.

 _I knew you were,  
_ _You were gonna come to me.  
_ _And here you are,  
_ _But you better choose carefully,  
_ _'Cause I-I-I am capable of anything,  
_ _Of anything and everything._

 _Make me your Aphrodite,  
_ _Make me your one and only,  
_ _But don't make me your enemy, your enemy, your enemy..._

I curled my hands into Roman's dark locks and pulled myself closer to him, my lips inches from his. "So you wanna play with magic? Boy, you should know what you're fighting for," I sang lowly. "Baby, do you dare to do this? 'Cause I'm coming atcha like a dark horse. Are you ready for…a perfect storm? 'Cause once you're mine..." I went onto my tip-toes and grazed my teeth along his earlobe before I breathed out, "There's no going back."

Another groan escaped Roman and his hands moved to cup my ass, fingers toying with the elastic of my booty shorts. "Where's all this coming from, Savvy?"

"I could ask you the same thing," I countered, thoroughly enjoying the feeling of his hands there.

"I think you know," he said.

"I don't think I do?" I feigned innocence.

"You don't?" Roman played along. "You don't know that there might be a chance my feelings for you run a lot fucking deeper than friendship?"

I let out a mocking gasp. "Roman Reigns, you shouldn't go around saying things like that. There might be a girl who's been fighting the way she feels about you for months."

"Why would that girl want to fight how she feels?"

I shrugged. "Because she's scared. Because she's been hurt so many times in the past that even the idea of opening up to someone makes her want to puke. Because she doesn't want her feelings to ruin how hard you and she have fought to be friends."

Roman looked thoughtfully down at me. "Well…what if I told that girl she had nothing to be scared of? That I'm nothing like the guys she dated before because I'd treat her like a queen. If she'd let me."

We were both as drunk as each other, the words slurring together and were barely distinguishable. Yet somehow, it all made sense, what we were saying. We'd both regret it in the morning. I knew we would. But it was like neither of us could stop the words from coming out of our mouths, and truth be told…I didn't want us to stop either.

"I'm scared to feel," I whispered tearfully.

Roman leaned his forehead on mine. "Then let me help you." He tilted his head down like he had earlier this afternoon, but this time it was me stopping him.

I placed my finger over his lips and said, "Not here. There's too many people. My bedroom is at the very end of the upstairs corridor. Meet me in two minutes." Without waiting for an answer, I removed myself from his arms and sauntered away, making sure to shake my ass as I walked.

"What the fuck are you doing?" I muttered to myself once I was in the quiet empty room of my bedroom. This was gonna backfire, I just knew it. We'd wake up tomorrow morning and wouldn't even be able to look each other in the eye. But goddamn it, I wanted Roman so bad and I couldn't and wouldn't control myself anymore. If he wanted me too then why the fuck should we fight any longer?

"You took your time," I teased when Roman finally walked through the door.

"Needed to make sure you weren't gonna go cold on me," he replied, fisting his hands in the material of my sweater that rested at my hips and pulled me closer.

"Uh-uh-uh, Romey," I said with a smirk, and in seconds I'd turned the momentum around and shoved him back onto my king-sized bed, straddling him as he laid there. "I'm in control now."

"Shit, Sav," he groaned as I ran my hands down his abs, making sure my nails lightly scratched him. "You don't know how long I've wanted to do this."

"Mmm, well I'm here now," I purred, moving my hand lower and stroking it over his semi-hard cock. "So now that I am…what are you gonna do about it?"

"Fuck. Fuck, don't tease me like that," he panted.

"I'm not teasing," I said innocently, making sure to roll my hips so my core grounded into his dick. I let out a soft mewl; _fuck he felt so good_.

"Sav, please, for the love of God, don't make me beg."

I pouted. "I don't know…I think I like the idea of you begging." I pulled my fedora off my head and tossed it across the room, fanning my wild red hair out around my shoulders.

"Fuck," Roman said again, sitting up with me still straddling him and running his hands up under my sweater, cupping my breasts.

I laughed and shoved him back down roughly. "Sorry, sweetheart. I told you, I'm in control." However, I decided now was the time to end both our suffering. I leaned down so I was now crouched over the top of Roman, and I dipped my head, closing my eyes. My lips just barely grazed his.

That was when the bedroom door suddenly burst open making Roman and I spring apart to look, and there was Seth, looking both totally wasted (he was literally swaying as he stood) and panicked half to death. "Shit, Sav! Someone left the front door open and Robin got out!"

"What the fuck?! What idiot did that?!" I yelped, scrambling off Roman and speeding out the door.

"Did I interrupt something?" Seth said behind me.

"You're a real cockblock, you know that?" Roman grumbled, his voice trailing off as I got further away. I shoved past everyone in my way and by the time I stumbled into the front yard, Dean, Tyson, Wade, Kaitlyn and Aksana were all outside, calling Robin's name and staggering around the makeshift graveyard.

"Hey Rosie! Rosie, you're just in time!" Dean slurred at me. "We're searching for the iguana king!" He then tripped over a gravestone and landed in a heap of cape and foam muscles. Oh, for fuck sake.

"Where the fuck is my dog?!" I shouted. I suddenly felt stone cold sober.

"We're finding him, Sav, it's okay!" Kaitlyn assured me, wrapping an arm around my waist. She was dressed as a sexy army cadet and her eyes had that glassy look of someone who had been drinking for hours- everyone's did - so I didn't exactly let her words put me to rest.

"Please, he's so tiny!" I begged. "If a car comes by and hits him, he'll get crushed! Robin! ROBIN!"

"Here! He's here, I've found him!" Wade Barrett's strong English accent resonated through the night, and I watched him reach under the rosebush at the end of the drive and pull a quivering white puffball out from beneath it.

"Oh, thank God!" I cried in relief, running over and taking him from Wade, who I thanked profusely. "What the fuck have I told you about running away without Mommy?!" I berated the dog as I carried him back inside. I needed to lock him up in his house in…in my bedroom. There was a 50/50 chance of Roman still being in there, though the mood between us had been substantially dampened. He probably hadn't bothered to hang around, and sure enough, when I opened the door, he was gone.

I tried not to let the disappointment get to me as I kissed Robin on the nose and locked him away. When I got back downstairs, Roman was talking to Antonio and Zack, clearly acting like nothing had happened, so I decided to do the same. I grabbed a bottle of tequila on the kitchen island, downed a quarter of it in ten seconds flat and rejoined the girls. We danced, we laughed, we gossiped and bitched and I punctuated it by drinking shot after shot of anything I could get my hands on. Everyone was fucking wasted and could barely string a sentence together.

It was too much, even by my standards. Things were becoming blurrier and blurrier to the point where by 4AM, when everyone started leaving in their cabs and Ubers, the entire night was nothing but a black blur in my memories.

* * *

The first sound heard at 1604 Song Sparrow Court the next morning was that of me violently throwing up in the bathroom. I hadn't even made it to the toilet. I'd been in the process of showering the stink of booze, cigarette smoke and remaining liquid latex off my face when my stomach had lurched. I never stood a chance of moving and emptied the contents of my stomach all over the shower floor and my feet.

"Last night was such a bad idea," I moaned, washing the vomit off my skin and out of the shower, watching it swirl down the drain. Last night was probably a bad idea, anyway. I say probably because I _couldn't remember any of it_. The last thing I had in my memory of last night was throwing my arms around Jimmy and Naomi when they arrived and telling them how much food there was. The rest was just...nothingness.

Stepping out of the shower and shutting it off, I towel dried both my body and my hair, which I left down, and dressed in an oversized A Day To Remember t-shirt, grey Spiritual Gangster sweatpants, Batman socks and my Harley Quinn slippers. I remained makeup-less too, feeling way too rough to even consider putting any on. Snores emanated from both of my guest rooms as I padded past them and headed downstairs, meaning both Dean and Roman were fast asleep. Seth had been sleeping on the couch but when I got to the living room, he was already awake and watching a _Jerry Springer_ rerun on the TV.

"Hey you," he said when he spotted me. "Christ, you look as rough as I feel."

"Thanks bro," I said with a yawn. "Jesus, I feel like I didn't sleep. What time is it?"

"Like, almost noon," he said. "I woke up at about ten and started cleaning up, but…shit, there's so much."

I scrubbed a hand down my face. "Fuck. I didn't think this through. Come on, get up. I'll help. May as well sort this out sooner rather than later."

"Just tell me where to go, boss lady," he said, standing up and stretching. For the next two hours, Seth and I completely deep cleansed the house thoroughly. We scrubbed, sprayed, threw out, disinfected and demolished. By the time Dean and Roman fell down the stairs just after 2 o'clock, the house was spotless.

"Holy fuck, what a night," Dean grunted. "I can't remember a fucking thing."

"You and me both, Ambrose," I muttered, sipping the cappuccino I'd just made. "It's like last night never happened."

"Wait, you guys can't remember anything either?" Roman said with a frown, opening my fridge and taking out a bottle of water.

"What the fuck kind of drinks did people bring?" mumbled Seth.

"Evil substances," I replied. "Still, if none of us can remember anything then it must mean it was a damn successful night."

"I'd agree with that," Roman said, grinning at me. A sudden voice echoed through my mind and the thought (memory?) sent a flash of heat straight to my pussy.

" _Sav, please, for the love of God, don't make me beg."_

" _I don't know…I think I like the idea of you begging."_

I was so surprised I nearly spat out the mouthful of coffee I'd just sipped. Instead I just elected to choke on it, spluttering violently. Roman moved to whack me between the shoulder blades a few times.

"Jesus Sav, what the fuck happened there?" Dean asked with a snort.

"I'm fine," I choked. "I'm fine…" I WAS NOT FINE. It had abruptly become very important for me to know _exactly_ what had happened last night.

* * *

 **A/N- Okay, so I do know the ending kinda trailed off there, but…I actually loved writing this chapter! I hope you all enjoyed reading it as much as I did writing it! So please, please leave a review, or a follow, favourite…hey, push the boat out. Do all three! Love you guys! Xx Gee xX**

 **References: The "I know you don't like normal things" scene is paraphrased from _American Horror Story: Murder House_.**

 _ **Songs for Chapter**_ **13:** **  
Party Soundtrack -**

 _ **Britney Spears - Hold It Against Me  
**_ _ **3OH!3 and Katy Perry - Starstrukk  
**_ _ **Lady GaGa - Lovegame  
**_ _ **Papa Roach - One Track Mind  
R**_ _ **ihanna - Only Girl (In The World)  
**_ _ **Katy Perry ft Juicy J - Dark Horse**_

 **Playlist -**

 _ **Ariana Grande - Into You  
Zara Larsson - It Ain't My Fault**_


	14. Relationship Status: It's Complicated

**A/N- Thank you so much to DenyingTheTruth, Shield316 (oh my God, your reviews make my day, my love! Thank you!) and Lynn021 for reviewing!**

* * *

 **Chapter Fourteen - Relationship Status: It's Complicated**

* * *

 _ **~ Early August 2009 ~**_

* * *

"Come on, honey! You can do better than that!" I choked as Danny Havoc tightened his hold on my neck.

"You stupid bitch!" he snarled. "What the fuck is wrong with you?!"

"I can give you a list," I bit out, bringing my leg up and nailing him between the legs with a low blow. He let out a grunt and fell to his knees cupping his junk, so I took the opportunity to turn around and sprint at the ropes. I jumped and bounced off the second one before twisting in midair and catching him in the chest with a calf kick. My boots were thick enough to wind him, especially since I'd caught him just below the throat.

"Babe, give me something!" I screamed out of the ring at Jon, and a steel chair was shoved under the bottom rope, along with a baseball bat. Giggling, I selected the bat and proceeded to bring it down repeatedly on Danny's bare back, relishing in the sound of it striking his skin as he screamed.

The tables turned as abruptly as they'd moved in my favour. Danny suddenly rolled around and seized hold of the bat before I could hit him again, jerking it from my grasp. It caught me off guard and he took advantage, scooping his arm around my knees and flooring me, my head smacking against the canvas.

"Poor little Rosie," he said in a sing-song voice, grabbing hold of my hair and pulling me into a sitting position. He sat himself behind me, locked his legs around my waist and pulled my head backwards, trying to wrap an arm around my neck. Fuck. FUCK. He was going for There Is No Vulcan Deathgrip, aka, a dragon sleeper.

I started thrashing for all I was worth, making sure he didn't have the opportunity to lock in the hold because the second he did, it would be over for me. "Get the fuck off me!" I shrieked.

"Shh, shh, shh, there, there," Danny taunted, using his free hand to stroke my cheek. His arm around my neck tightened and officially locked the hold in. Welp, this was it. Goodbye, win streak. It was nice knowing you. I wouldn't tap. I'd just let myself fade out.

My eyes were beginning to flutter shut when Jon appeared on the ring apron in front of me, hands gripping the top rope so tightly I could see his knuckles turning white. "You think you're a big man, Havoc?! Huh?!" he roared, his face flushed red with anger.

"You want a front row seat to watch me knock her out, Moxley?" Danny chuckled darkly. "Maybe I'll have a little fun with her afterwards. After all, your girl doesn't really say no to anyone, does she?"

"You motherfucker!" Jon snarled, going to step through the ropes, but there was no need. I freed one of my arms from behind my back and raked my fingernails down Havoc's face, digging them into his skin and catching one of his eyes in the process.

"Fucking hell!" he yelled, releasing me abruptly and skittering backwards. I hacked out a cough and kip-upped to my feet, collapsing back against the ropes massaging my neck and trying to breathe properly.

"Go get him, baby," Mox muttered in my ear, rubbing the bare small of my back.

I swiftly kissed him on the cheek. "I'm ending this now." In this short amount of time, Danny had pressed himself up into the opposite corner of the ring. I'd torn through the skin below his left eye and blood was streaming from the cut. He was too busy paying attention to that than to me. Oh-ho, big mistake.

I sprinted forward and flipped myself into the air, colliding with Danny in a cannonball senton. Danny groaned in pain the second I connected with him, but I didn't dare let myself get cocky because if I did, then I'd start slipping. I leapt backwards and seized hold of the steel chair Jon had thrown into the ring earlier. I popped it open and positioned it by the corner of the ring.

Now it was me wrapping my arm around Danny's neck as I hauled him to his feet. He was practically a dead weight, but I used the last of my strength to keep my grip on him as I climbed to the second rope. I jumped. I pulled. I twisted. Danny's head connected with the seat of the chair as I executed the Southern Belle, but it didn't collapse.

Instead, his body just sort of crumpled with his face resting in the dent it had made in the chair. Even I cringed at the crunching metal sound because fuck, ow. Sure enough, when I peeled him away, his face was a complete crimson mask, his nose twisted into mush. Oh well, it wasn't my problem.

Wanting to have a little fun, I decided to pin him in a much less conventional way. I shoved Danny onto is back and slipped a leg either side of him, straddling his shoulders with my crotch pointing at his face. Any closer and I would have been sitting on his face. I leaned back and pulled one of his legs up, and one, two, three, ding ding ding.

"The winner of this match, Savannah Rose!" the official announced, pulling me off Danny's somewhat unresponsive form and thrust my arm in the air.

Grinning evilly at the crowd, I used my other hand to brush back my knotted hair, not giving a fuck about how much blood was matting in it. I'd get the gash in my head sorted out backstage. Sure, I felt a little lightheaded from how much blood I'd lost, but I would not show Danny that he got a good hit in. The crack of that chair leg connecting with my scalp at the start of the match had echoed around the room.

"Fuck with my man again, Havoc, I fucking dare you," I spat, kicking him in the ribs. Speaking of my man…

My hand was ripped out of the official's, which was replaced with a much more calloused one. "My little fuckin' psychopath," Mox murmured, pulling me to him and shoving his mouth on mine, our tongues automatically clashing. He was right; I was his. I'd always be his. Neither of us cared we were in the middle of the ring with a few hundred people watching us. This was a post-match ritual for us by now.

This was what I hoped was fifth time's a charm for Jon and I. I'd been in CZW for a year and a half. Most of that time had been spent in relationship hell with Jon. Four get togethers, four breakups, and so…so much pain. We'd had sex my first day here. He'd sexually harassed me for a fortnight. I'd smashed glass over him. That should have been it. It wasn't.

What should have been a one night stand in mid-March 2008 turned into us getting weirdly soppy with each other and deciding to try dating. In August, he'd accused me of 'looking at Drake the wrong way,' and dumped me in front of the entire roster because of his ill-conceived jealousy.

In late September, the roster went out drinking after a show. One thing led to another, Jon fucked me across the hood of his car and told me we were giving us another go, which I didn't argue with. On January 3rd, Sami accidentally let slip that Jon had banged a rat behind The Arena on New Year's Eve, which led to me trying to strangle Mox and breaking up with him.

On Valentine's Day, a vase of dead roses turned up on my doorstep with an apology note - well, as close to an apology as Jon would get - and like an idiot, I took him back. Because I'd done the one thing I had sworn to myself would never, ever happen; I'd fallen for Jon Moxley. Hard. A month later, I saw him making out backstage with one of the other girls in the company. I'd ripped him off her, grabbed hold of the skank by the hair and smashed her face-first into a mirror then hysterically screamed at Jon that we were through…then got suspended for three weeks.

When I returned, I was confronted by a somewhat sheepish Jon. No, of course he didn't apologise for what he'd done. In fact, he tried to justify it, saying he was 'practicing for a promo with me and I'd still been in the ring.' No, I hadn't been. Also, why the fuck did you need to practice making out with your girlfriend with _another woman_?! Fucking dickhead. That's what I should have said. Instead, I'd forgiven him. Hi, my name's Savannah Rose and I'm a fucking doormat.

He'd turned me into a shell of myself; I should have been happy by myself. I never needed a man before, especially one that fucking cheated on me at every opportunity. This was why I had never fallen in love before now. This was why I had _banned_ myself from falling in love before now. But Jon had his claws in me, and he wasn't going to let go.

That didn't stop him breaking up with me yet again for beating him in a barbed wire match during the first round of Best of the Best in June. It didn't even matter to him that Sami had then eliminated me in the semi-final, it didn't matter how much I'd tried to make him see that it wasn't that serious, it was only a stupid competition, it didn't mean anything. He was pissed he'd lost, it was my fault, we were done.

Then two weeks ago, DJ had forced the two of us to team against Nick and Mercedes. They'd been causing us problems separately. Fuck it, let's have a tornado tag match. We won, naturally, so hey, why not go for a little victory sex? Look, I'm not proud of it, but I was at the point where I'd take what I could get.

"I don't think he'll be fucking with you again anytime soon," I said breathlessly once we broke apart, my hands laced at the back of his neck.

"Mmm, not when he knows I've got you in my corner," he replied, tracing his finger over the rhinestone skulls on the cheeks of my shorts before giving my ass a firm squeeze.

"He shouldn't do it anyway. Not when you're king of the company, baby," I said, catching his bottom lip between my teeth and giving it a tug.

He let out a growl. "Can't wait till we're alone, hm?"

"I never want to wait when I'm with you," I purred, running my hand down his t-shirt covered chest.

He chuckled as he kissed me once more, the vibrations travelling through my body and making me moan. "Let's get you stitched up, then we'll talk."

We released each other and he walked over the the ropes - making sure to stand on Danny's face in the process - to step on the bottom rope, making space for me to slip through before rolling underneath himself whilst I remained on the apron. I held out my hand to him and got him to help me down from the apron, which he did, before he wrapped his arm around my waist possessively and the two of us headed backstage to a chorus of cheers.

Jon held my hand throughout the fifteen minutes it took to have the five stitches put in my head. Every time I hissed in pain he ran his thumb comfortingly over my knuckles. It was moments like this that made me forget all the bad things about him and only focus on the good. Because when we were like this, it was perfect. I loved him, and while I knew he would never love me back, I didn't care. Just being with him was enough. I didn't want to think about how long it would be before the arguments started, or before he cheated on me yet again. I wanted to believe this was it, that we'd be together forever.

"You did good out there, kitten," he said, pressing his lips to my temple. God, I loved it when he called me that.

"I thought Danny had me," I admitted, stroking his thigh. "When he locked in the hold, I really thought he was gonna choke me out."

"Please, that smarmy son of a bitch can't handle you and he knows it. He panicked," he said dismissively. He caught hold of my hand and inched it higher so my fingertips brushed against the bottom of his trunks. "I'm the only one who knows how to handle you." His voice came out low, making me shiver.

Derek, the resident CZW first aider, cleared his throat loudly, making Jon and I jump out of our romantic little stupor. He shook his head at us before snipping the thread still attached to me. "There you go, Rose," he said, pulling off his gloves. "Next time try to duck."

"Well fuck, why didn't I think of that?" I said sardonically, standing up and rolling my eyes. "Thanks for the advice, Derek. I'll be sure to avoid the metal stick crashing down on my skull next time."

"Thanks, Der," Jon said smartly, reaching out and scooping me up over his shoulder caveman-style, making me shriek with laughter. "I apologise for my girlfriend's attitude problem."

"Used to it by now, ain't I?" Derek grunted. "Still haven't forgiven her for kicking me in the gut when I reset her nose last month."

"Still here, asshole," I muttered.

"We'll be going now," Jon said over me, his voice overly cheerful as he said goodbye and carted me out of the room. No one stared as he carried me through the backstage area; again, it was a common sight around here.

"Hey Mox! Try not to fuck her through a bench again, will ya?!" shouted out Scotty.

"That was one time, fuckface!" I shouted back.

"Ease up, Vortekz, we got it replaced!" Jon called, opening the door to my dressing room and depositing me inside before closing it behind us. I say my changing room because I hadn't been allowed to share with the other girls in over a year. Backstage fights. Don't you love 'em?

"You know, I've got no objections to breaking another bench," I suggested flirtatiously, smiling as Jon shifted my weight down so I could wrap my legs around his waist and my arms around his shoulders. I kissed the end of his nose for good measure.

"Don't tempt me, kitten," he drawled, burying his face in my neck and proceeding to kiss, suck and bite every centimeter of skin he could reach, even toying with my stitches choker with his teeth.

I craned my head back to give him better access, playing with the hair at the nape of his neck. "I was only t-teasing," I managed to say. "Y-your match…starts soon…oh God, baby…"

"But we don't tease Daddy, do we, kitten?" he whispered against my skin, supporting me with one arm as he moved his other hand to the knot at the straps of my halter bralet.

"It was a j-joke." My head lulled back further and my eyes fluttered shut, but I couldn't stop my mouth from curving into a devilish smirk; this was exactly how I'd planned this to go.

"Oh, so this is funny to you?" Jon pulled back from attacking my neck to raise a brow at me, lowing me to my feet. "You think it's funny to rile me up so I've gotta go out to my match with a raging boner?" He wasn't kidding, I could feel it poking my thigh. "Or parading around looking so fucking hot I can't think straight? That's funny?" His fingers started to deftly untie the knot at my neck while his other hand stroked a circle around the top of my blood-print thigh-high sock. "Or pinning Havoc like that? Right in front of me? Was that fucking funny to you?" His voice suddenly got harder as he moved his hand to the clip of the strap on my back and I frowned at him.

"Babe, it didn't _mean_ anything," I assured him, though my stomach started to knot at his tone. "I was playing." I ran a hand through his dishwater blonde hair. "You're the only man I want, you know that." This was when Jon scared me; when his jealous side started to rear its head.

"Hmm. But maybe you're lying." Jon took a step back and watched as my bralet fell from my body, leaving me completely bare from the waist up. "Maybe you want him more than me."

"Or maybe you're just being paranoid," I retorted. I sidled up to him and grabbed hold of the hem of his t-shirt, pulling him closer to me. "I think this needs to come off," I murmured, roughly pulling the shirt over his head and tossing it over my shoulder. "If I'm getting naked, then so are you."

"So kitten wants to be in charge, does she?" he drawled, trailing his hands up my sides, over my ribs and cupping my breasts firmly, kneading them and tweaking my nipples.

I let out a loud moan and nodded. "She does." I shoved my hand inside his trunks and grabbed hold of his hard cock, slowly stroking my hand up and down his shaft.

A hiss slipped from his mouth. "Don't start something you can't finish, baby."

I giggled. "Believe me, I'll be finishing this." Placing a light kiss on his lips, I began to trail my mouth down his body, lowering myself as I went.

"That's right, babydoll, get on your fuckin' knees," he growled.

"Is this what you wanted, Daddy?" I asked innocently, looking up at him through my lashes, running my fingernail over the outline of his erection through his trunks.

"Fuck yeah," he groaned, looking down at me and brushing some hair out of my eye, his hand then lacing into my hair.

"Now do you believe that you're the only man for me?"

"Babydoll, can we have this conversation when you're done sucking my cock?" he panted, and I rolled my eyes. Ever the gentleman. Still, I wasn't about to argue so I went ahead with what I was doing, hooking my fingers in the waistband of his trunks. Or at least, I would of gone ahead had my dressing room door not opened.

"Hey Mox, Scotty said you were in here. Our match- OH JESUS!"

"Sami, what the fuck?!" I bellowed, leaping to my feet and covering my boobs with my hands whilst Jon roared with laughter.

"Good timing, asshole," he snorted, clapping Sami on the shoulder as the dark-haired one stood there not knowing where to look. The poor guy actually closed his eyes.

"Don't you know how to fucking knock!?" I shrieked, taking the opportunity to grab Jon's discarded t-shirt and slip it over my head.

"I'm just as embarrassed as you, trust me," he muttered, eyes still closed. "Jesus Christ…"

"I highly doubt that," I snapped, raking a hand through my hair.

"Well I think this is fucking hilarious," Jon chuckled, wrapping his arm around my waist and pulling me to him, my hand coming up to rest on his chest.

"You would," I sighed in irritation, lightly smacking him.

"Ooh baby, you know I like it rough," he teased.

"You are such a moron," I said fondly.

"Can I open my eyes yet?!" Sami demanded.

"Man up, Callihan," Jon said. "I wasn't gonna do anything if you looked at her, anyway."

"After the mess you left Gage in for saying she was hot, I wasn't taking any chances," Sami shot back, opening his eyes and immediately rolling them.

"Anyway, before you got mentally scarred, you were saying something about our match?" Jon said nonchalantly.

"Yeah. It starts in like five minutes, we gotta get to gorilla," Sami informed him.

"Shit, really?! Why the fuck didn't you open with that?!" Jon shouted.

"I walked in on your girlfriend about to suck your dick, somehow that wasn't the first thing I thought to do!"

"Touché. Sorry to cut this short, babydoll." Jon kissed the top of my head. "To be continued."

"To be continued," I smiled, caressing his bicep. "Break some legs out there. Damage called me a ho yesterday." He and Sami had a match against Cult Fiction- Brain Damage and tHURTeen. God, some blood was gonna get spilled. I pitied the cleaners after this one.

"I got you, babe." He squeezed my ass one last time before he and Sami exited the room discussing strategies. Any other girlfriend would be able to call, 'I love you,' after their boyfriend. Not me. I wasn't prepared to get my heart broken all over again.

* * *

 _ **~ 10th November 2013 ~**_

* * *

 _ **SavvyAsHellWWE: Gonna pretend that I love flying transatlantic just so the flight seems quicker. See ya soon, England! #SavvyOnTour  
**_ _ **Tweeted 11/10/2013 05.38AM**_

"Fuck me, I hate overseas flying," I grumbled to myself, checking over the last of my bags. I especially hated flying overseas by myself. Unfortunately, I was going to be doing both in the next two hours. I was about to get in a cab to take me to Orlando International Airport where I would board a plane to Manchester, England. It was officially time for me to depart on my second European tour on the main roster, and while I was excited to be going to England, I was flying totally solo.

Seth was flying out from Davenport, Roman would be flying from Pensacola and Dean was flying from Cincinnati after visiting his mom for the weekend. We all had flights at similar times so we had arranged to meet at the airport on touchdown, but…urgh. A solo eight hour flight did not sound appealing. Still, I was living my childhood dream so I wasn't likely to complain. Happy with what I'd packed, I hooked my personalised duffle bag over my shoulder and popped the handle on my floral Ted Baker trolley case, thumping downstairs and out the door. It was just shy of 6AM, and being mid-November, it was no warmer than 50 degrees currently and the sun was only now thinking about rising.

"You're optimistic, aren't you, sweetheart?" my cab driver commented as I sat down, shivering. "I know it's early, but it's supposed to be pretty warm today."

"I'm sure it is, here," I replied with a yawn. "But since I'm on my way to England, I'm thoroughly expecting to catch my death out there." I was dressed for the perfect mix of comfort and warmth in Shield sweatpants, Ugg boots and a sweater with Jason Voorhees on.

I avoided small talk for the most part of the journey, though of course the driver attempted it several more times. Forty-five minutes later, I hopped out of the cab at the airport, paid the dude and grabbed my bags. The huge white building looked a hell of a lot more daunting now I was gonna be flying so far by myself. I went through security and boarding - all standard shit - and sat myself down in the Starbucks near my gate, taking a timeout.

 _Ding ding._

Huh, wasn't expecting any texts this early in the morning. I dug my phone out of my carry on and unlocked it.

 _ **-One New Message-  
Roman Reigns**_

 **Hey baby girl, now boarding so hoping to be in Manchester by about 3.30. How long you got? Xxx**

 _My flight leaves in 20, so probably gonna land about 4ish. Are you gonna stick around the other end? Xxx_

 **Yeah, just got a text from Seth saying he was about to take off too so we'll land at the same time. You okay on your own? Xxx**

 _Not really, but once I'm in the air I'll be alright. It's the waiting that gets me. I feel like I'm gonna shit myself. Or puke. Xxx_

 **I should have flown with you. Xxx**

 _I'm fine, Ro. I appreciate the offer but I am 25, not 15. I can fly by myself. You can't always be here to save me ;) Xxx_

 **You know I'm always here for you. Xxx**

 _You're doing that thing where you get waaaay too serious, Ro. I promise I'm fine. Xxx_

 **Stubborn. But okay. If you're sure. Xxx**

 _Even if I wasn't, it's a little late now. Pensacola is like 6 hours away. It's not like you can just get here. Xxx_

 **Sure, point out the logic in what could be a really manly, Prince Charming moment. Xxx**

 _You know me, never believed in fairytales, never will. Besides, look at you. You're no Prince Charming. You're the rough-around-the-edges stable boy the princess realises she should have been looking for the whole time. Xxx_

 **I assume that's a compliment? Xxx**

 _You should never assume anything, Mr Reigns, for it makes an 'ass out of u + me.' Xxx_

 **Very funny, Savvy. Anyway, I gotta go, just got the final call to board. I'll see you soon, try not to freak out. Xxx**

 _I can't promise that. Turn your phone off before you fuck up the plane. See you in England. Xxx_

I smiled like a stupid little girl as I zipped my phone back into my bag. Man, this little crush of mine really wasn't going anywhere anytime soon. I didn't know what made Roman so special. Okay, I did. He cared. What's more, he cared about me. About how I felt. Maybe I just had a serious attachment complex and that's what had made me latch onto him. No, that wasn't it, because by that logic I would have fallen for Seth months ago and the idea of _that_ made me want to throw up in my mouth.

Why Roman? I swear, it would have been easier if I'd just rekindled my relationship with Dean, because at least he was predictable. Lie, cheat, breakup. It was always like clockwork.

For all I knew, Roman would be the same. Sure, he didn't give off those kind of vibes but you never knew what someone was really like under the surface. I had a habit of attracting dickheads so why would Roman be any different? And even if he was different, it wouldn't matter. I didn't know how to have a healthy relationship. All I knew of long-term was how toxic it could become after the honeymoon period.

* * *

 _ **~ Mid-August 2009 ~**_

* * *

I knew it had to go wrong at some point. A month without a single argument was too good to be true. If that wasn't a big enough clue, Jon's frosty silence the entire cab ride back to his house was the second. We'd walked inside in silence. I'd gotten changed into my PJs in silence. I'd walked back into the living room in silence. Then…

"Jon, get off me!" I cried, trying to twist my arm out of his grip.

"Why? Wanna go running off to your other boyfriend?" he taunted, pulling me back and getting right up in my face. The stench of whiskey flooded over me.

" _You're_ my boyfriend, you fucking idiot!" I shouted, struggling against him.

"You're fucking right I am! So why don't you fucking explain what you were doing with Callihan!?" he slurred.

"With _Callihan_?!" I repeated incredulously. "Jon, be realistic here! Sami is my best friend, we were dancing! Stop being stupid, you're drunk!"

"Yeah, well when you see your girlfriend grinding all over your best friend's dick, you might have a few drinks to calm yourself down!"

"Seems like you had a lot more than a few, Moxley. You reek of liquor," I retorted. "I was not grinding on him! Let me repeat: we were _dancing_! You'd pissed off somewhere with Scotty, what was I supposed to do, stand alone in the corner until you got back?!"

"What you were supposed to do is not act like a fuckin' _whore_ in front of the entire roster!" Jon shouted, shoving me away from him so violently that I collided with the wall behind me. My head snapped back with a painful thud and I momentarily saw stars, I'd hit it so hard. I closed them momentarily to try and get my bearings. When I opened them again, Jon was right in front of me, our noses almost touching, and his hands were either side of my head, pinning me there.

I let out a scream of shock and received a smack across the left side of my face for my trouble. Jon rarely laid his hands on me outside the ring, so now I knew shit was bad. "What the fuck, Jon?!"

"Shut the fuck up, bitch, I'm talking now," he snarled. "You made me look fucking stupid tonight!"

My hand cupped my flaming cheek and tears were threatening to spring to my eyes, but I fought them down. I would not show Jon that he'd gotten to me like that, no fucking way. "You need to get your fucking jealousy issues under control!" I warned him. "You can't fucking treat me like this every time another guy looks in my direction!"

"Fucking watch me!" he sneered. "You like it, don't you? Having every guy in the bar stare at you the second you walk in the door?"

"No, I fucking don't! It actually makes me feel sick!" I snapped. "I'm _yours_ , Jon! Not Sami's, not Nick's, not Drake's, _yours_! I'm with _you,_ I go home with _you_ , I fuck _you_! How can I make that any clearer?!"

He pulled my hand away from my cheek and slowly ran his fingertips over the forming bruise like he was caressing it. "You're not special, babydoll," he taunted. "I could have any bitch I wanted around here, but I chose you."

I batted his hand away from me, now very close to bursting into tears. "Believe me, I'm more than aware of how many girls you could have considering you don't even fucking wait to be single again before you have them, you fucking hypocrite!" I screeched, earning myself another slap in the face, again on the left side. This one split my lip open.

"Oooh, Rosie wants to be brave," Jon jeered. "How cute. I'm a man with needs, kitten, and when you're not opening your legs enough then I'm gonna look elsewhere." His finger traced the waistband of my pink gingham sleep shorts. "You've only got yourself to blame."

The third slap that echoed around Jon's living room was me backhanding him clean across the face. "How fucking dare you! You'll _never_ do better than me, Jon Moxley! Never! I'm the best you've had, the best you've got and the best you ever will have!"

"You fucking cunt!" he roared, and his fist buried itself in the plaster wall two inches from my head.

"Get away from me!" I screamed, shoving him as hard as I possibly could and causing him to trip backwards over the coffee table. He landed with a heavy thump and let out a stream of curses. I ended up huddled up in the corner of the room and I was now sobbing in pure fear. When Jon was in this mood, I had no idea what he was capable of. Sure, I'd seen him totally snap on loads of guys before, but not me. Not like this.

He lurched to his feet and took a step towards me, making me shrink back into the corner shaking. I could see the knuckles on his right hand were bleeding profusely, little droplets of blood dripping onto the carpet.

"Get _away_!" I repeated hysterically. "Go away, Jon, just go away!"

He laughed at me. "Or what? This is my house, babydoll."

"I don't care! Fuck off! Go sober up, go and get your hand sorted out, I don't care what you do!"

He didn't listen to me. Instead, he just kept walking towards me until he stood in front of me. He reached out with his bleeding hand and stroked my hair. "You're really scared, aren't you?" he mumbled.

"Get. Off. Me," I gritted out through my tears. "Please, Jon, just go. I can't deal with you in this mood!"

He suddenly bent down and forcefully pressed his lips against mine for a few seconds, trying to shove his tongue into my mouth, but I pushed him away again. I followed this up by spitting in his face. He chuckled and wiped his cheek on the back of his hand before mockingly saying, "Alright honey, I'm going out. Don't wait up for me."

"FUCK OFF!" I shrieked, throwing a half-full mug of coffee at him that had been left on the windowsill since this morning. He neatly sidestepped it and watched as it shattered against the wall.

"You can clear that shit up," he said nonchalantly, before grabbing his leather jacket from the armchair and storming out of the room. Moments later, the front door slammed. I daren't move for a few minutes just in case he came back. However, when it became clear that Jon wouldn't be returning anytime soon, I took my first few quivering steps into the kitchen, where I grabbed a wash cloth and some paper towels to gather the china in.

Trust me to throw a mug that decided to explode into about four hundred pieces. It felt like I was cleaning that up for hours (it was ten minutes) and that's not including mopping up the ice cold coffee. Wiping my still-watering eyes, I accidentally wiped my hand down over my cut lip and the stinging it caused brought fresh tears to my eyes. I also noticed that my wrist was bruised where Jon had grabbed me.

Sure enough, when I went to the bathroom a few minutes later, my bottom lip had swelled to probably double its size. I wasn't a doctor, but fuck, that didn't look healthy. "Shit, how can I cover that up?" I muttered, and my voice sounded somewhat stifled due to the swelling. The short answer was I couldn't. I gingerly touched it with my finger and immediately hissed in pain. My teeth must have cut into my lip when Jon struck me and in the heat of the moment I hadn't felt it. I'd only felt the skin actually split.

I delicately applied some antiseptic cream I'd found in Jon's sparse medicine cabinet in the hope it would reduce the swelling even slightly. Between that and the bruise on my cheek, it wouldn't take a genius to work out what had happened. Tomorrow I had to go to work and have a match in front of a hundred or so people. Brilliant.

Why did I stick around every time this happened? If it wasn't Jon flying into a jealous rage over nothing then it was me. We fought both verbally and physically and one of us always ended up storming out. Our entire relationship was poisonous and yet we always ended up back together. Why? Why did I love him? He didn't love me, he never would. Jon was incapable of love. Fuck, _I_ was supposed to be incapable of love. I thought I was. I should have been. So why was he the exception? I'd probably never know.

I didn't really know what to do now. It was just past midnight so logical thing would be to go to bed. I'd slept at Jon's place loads of times without him being there, but tonight was different. One, I wasn't sure I wanted us to sleep in the same bed after the fight we'd just had. Two, I didn't even know if he'd even want me in his bed. Three, fuck, I didn't even know if he still wanted me to be in the house.

I ended up curled up on the sofa watching some shitty SyFy 'horror' movie ( _Mega Shark vs Giant Octopus_ , to be exact). My eyes kept drifting shut but I forced them open; I didn't want to fall asleep before Jon came back. _If_ he came back. Naturally it was futile. I should have drunk something caffeinated, or had the TV on louder or brighter. One second I was watching the movie, the next I felt myself being lifted off the couch and being cradled in a set of muscular arms.

"Jon? Is that you?" I mumbled, not opening my eyes.

"Yeah, babydoll. It's me," he replied quietly.

"What time is it?" I yawned.

"A little after three thirty." I could feel him slowly start ascending the stairs and I snuggled into his chest, still not opening my eyes.

"Where did you go?"

"For a walk. I passed out on a park bench for a couple of hours. I just- I had to get away from you, baby. I was gonna hurt you."

"You did hurt me," I whispered, and he froze. My eyes slowly opened and I saw that we had reached the top of the stairs and Jon was paused outside his bedroom door. I reached out and flicked on the hallway light, brightening the room instantly. "Look at this, Jon. Look what you did to me." I turned my head to the side to show him the purplish hue of my left cheek.

"Oh God. Darlin'…" Holy fuck, he actually sounded a little guilty. He carried me into the bedroom and placed me on the bed. I scooched back to lean against the headboard, crossing my legs and anxiously plucking at the top of my over-the-knee socks. "I can't remember a whole lot. My head is so fucked, I can only remember how fucking pissed I felt…"

"Why do you get like this?" I said softly. "I didn't do anything wrong but you just freaked the fuck out and…it terrified me, Jon. You- you really hurt me."

"Babydoll, I didn't wanna do it," he said, sitting in front of me and cupping the right side of my face in his hand. "But fuck, you just make me so fucking angry. The idea of any of those assholes touching you makes me sick, and if you're encouraging them-"

"I wasn't," I insisted. "Jon, seriously, why would I? I love Sami, but as a _brother_! Maybe I was dancing with him, but that shouldn't matter! I'd been drinking too, you know what I'm like when I drink! You're the only guy I want to be with. Please believe me."

He leaned forward and gently kissed me, actually taking care not to do it too hard and aggravate the swelling of my lip. "I do believe you, babydoll. And I'm sorry."

"It's okay," I muttered, even though it was anything but. I just wasn't about to start another argument. I was tired, Jon was finally sobering up and it was so late that I didn't care about anything at this point.

"That's my girl." Jon pulled the covers back and I moved to lay down. I turned on my side to face away from him. He'd apologised, but this time it just wasn't enough for me to accept it straight away. I needed to sleep on it.

Jon laid down next to me and pulled the duvet over the two of us. He wrapped his arm around my waist and splayed his hand on my flat stomach which was exposed by my cropped sleep vest, pulling me back to spoon against him. "'Night, kitten," he said, kissing the back of my head before settling down.

"'Night, babe," I said quietly, closing my eyes.

* * *

 _ **~ 2013 ~**_

* * *

My flight was called not too long after I'd zipped my phone back into my bag. However, given my less-than-enthusiastic need to get on the plane, I actually ended up waiting until the final boarding call. Welp, time to nut up or shut up. To be fair to myself, my heart wasn't beating anywhere near as violently when I actually boarded the plane. The walk leading here was when my heart almost burst out of my head. I was in seat 12B, a middle seat. My God, why did it have to be a middle seat. This entire flight was gonna go downhill very quickly, especially if I was stuck between people I didn't know/didn't like/smelled weird.

"Nine…ten…eleven," I muttered, counting the seats aloud as I made my way down the rows, searching for my spot. "Aha, twelve- no way!"

"Hey girl!" Naomi exclaimed from her spot in 12A.

"Holy shit, 'Mi, you have got no idea how relieved I am to see you!" I said, stowing my bag in the overhead compartment then collapsing into my seat. "I thought I was gonna end up in between two gross old men or something. Where's Jimmy?"

"He was visiting Jey in Pensacola so they're flying from there with Roman, I think," she answered.

"Ouch, leaving his fiancée to fly by herself? That is harsh," I snickered.

"It wouldn't bother me if we weren't flying all the damn way to England," she said, shaking her head. "My man is ice cold sometimes."

"Maybe it's a Samoan thing," I mumbled.

"Still pining for a certain Reigns, are we?" God, Naomi couldn't have sounded any more smug if she tried.

"You make me regret ever mentioning my potential feelings for Roman," I mumbled.

"Girl, there ain't no 'potential' after that show the two of you put on at your Halloween party," she snorted, punching me lightly on the shoulder.

"What?" I frowned. "'Mi, what the fuck are you talking about?"

"Don't try denying it, Sav, you were all over each other," she giggled.

"No, seriously, I have got no idea what you're talking about!" I said. "I drank so much that I blacked out, I can't remember anything. None of us can."

"Well damn, thank God I'm the one telling you this," she said. "Hun, you and Roman… you legit didn't leave each other alone for about two hours. You had your hands all over each other, you were rubbing all up on his business, he was touching your ass and you kinda disappeared upstairs for a while."

I practically felt the colour drain out of my face. "Please, _please_ tell me you're joking."

Naomi shook her head. "Sorry babe, I'm being deadly serious."

I let out a stressed groan. "Did anyone see?"

She looked surprised that I'd asked. "There were a lot of people in that room. Lucky for you, most of them were so goddamn wasted that A) no one's said anything about it and B) I'm pretty sure, like you, none of them can actually remember the night."

"I guess that's something," I sighed. "You gotta promise me, 'Mi, you will _not_ say anything about this to anyone else!"

"I got you, Sav, you know I do," she said with a smile, and the two of us hugged tightly.

"Hey there, girlies." Oh, you had to be fucking kidding me. Naomi and I let go of each other and turned to see Summer Rae standing in the aisle, smiling superciliously at us. Kill me. If she was in 12C, just kill me now.

"What are you doing, Summer?" I said bluntly.

"Just taking my seat. No need for the hostility, Savannah, we're all friends here," she said smugly.

"Friends? Don't make me laugh, you bit-" Thank fuck I was cut off by the pilot otherwise I was a few syllables away from getting thrown off this plane.

" _Ladies and gentlemen, please fasten your seat belts, we are ready for takeoff. We hope to arrive in Manchester Airport at approximately sixteen-thirty so please, sit back, enjoy the flight and thank you for flying with Delta Airlines._ "

"This is gonna be a long eight hours," I muttered to Naomi, who rolled her eyes in response.

To be fair, the first six hours of the flight weren't actually that bad. Truth be told, I napped for about three hours with my Dallas Cowboys snapback covering my eyes because I had trained myself in the art of plane sleeping. Plus, after waking up at 4AM, it wasn't like I didn't need a few more hours of snooze.

I regretted opening my eyes almost the second I did so. Naomi handed me a bottled water to wet my dry mouth and the two of us settled into conversation instantly about her upcoming wedding.

"So do you think you're gonna have anyone from work there?" I asked.

Naomi shrugged. "Don't really know yet, being honest. We kinda want it to just be like a family affair. Intimate, you know?"

"I feel that," I said with a nod. "If I ever get married - and that's a very big _if_ \- I don't think I'll want a lot of people there. I'll only want, like, my foster parents, my husband-to-be's family and a few other people, and my three main boys. That'll be enough."

"Wow, you two, I'm surprised." Summer decided she was gonna join the conversation. You know, because we'd obviously asked her to get involved. "When I get married, I want the whole white tie and diamonds affair."

"When? If, more like," I said bitchily. "You don't really strike me as the marriage type, Summer."

"Because you're such an advocate for commitment, right, Savannah?" Summer kept her voice sickly sweet. "Everyone knows your past, sweetie. The internet's a great thing."

"At least I'm not the wrong side of thirty, as single as you can possibly be and pining over my tag partner," I said spitefully.

"Get me off this plane," Naomi muttered.

"Not pining over your tag partner? Don't make me laugh, Jordan," Summer scoffed. "We've all seen the way you and Roman give each other all those little longing stares backstage. It's cute, really. I don't know why you haven't gone there."

"Correction: you don't actually know, um, _anything_ , Rae," I bit out, fighting to keep my temper. "Why don't you learn to wrestle before you start worrying about my relationships with my _friends_."

"I'm just trying to help you," she said innocently, but she had an infuriating smirk on her lips. "Maybe I could give you a few tips on how to please him."

"Sure, I'll definitely take advice from you of all people," I snapped. "Need I reiterate that you are thirty with absolutely no romantic prospects on the horizon? Your clock's ticking, bitch."

She laughed. "Silly little girl, I'm not talking about relationship advice, I'm talking about Roman. He and I go way back."

Naomi intook a sharp breath as I narrowed my eyes at Summer. "What the fuck are you talking about?"

Annoying tinkly laugh #2. "Oh, he's never told you? I thought since the two of you were _such_ besties that you'd know all about each other's exes."

No. No fucking way. "You're lying. You're not his type," I immediately dismissed.

"You're not that stupid, Savannah," Summer snorted. "You were in FCW at the same time. Maybe you were too busy defending that FCW Divas Championship but I managed him for a little while, remember? Do the math, honey."

My chest tightened. I felt like I'd been kicked in the fucking stomach."It's bullshit. You're talking complete shit, Rae. He wouldn't fuck someone like you. I know Roman."

"Clearly not as well as you'd like," she retorted, settling back in her seat, clearly relishing in the reaction I'd given her. "Like I said, if you eventually decide to stop acting like a child and go there with him, I've got plenty of advice on what he likes."

"I'm going to the bathroom," I said abruptly, standing up and practically tripping over in my haste to get away from Summer before I strangled her with her own hair extensions. I did make sure to stamp on her foot on my way out, though.

Finding the bathroom at the back of the plane, I locked myself inside and sat down on the closed toilet seat with my head in my hands. My breathing was fast and heavy due to trying to hold in tears and I also felt like I was gonna throw up.

Deep down, I knew Summer wasn't lying. She was a spiteful bitch, sure, but it was very rare for girls to lie about who they'd slept with. Plus, with her flirtatious reputation preceding her…I had no doubts. She'd been with Roman. Roman had fucked her. He knew about my past relationship with Dean, but he'd never thought to disclose that he'd banged one of the most hated Divas on the roster. Was I overreacting? Maybe. It wasn't like Roman and I were together, but I didn't give a fuck.

Would I ever fall for a guy who didn't have secrets? More importantly, would I ever fall for a guy who didn't find tall, leggy blondes the hottest thing on the planet? It was such a fucking cliche.

* * *

 _ **~ Late August 2009 ~**_

* * *

 _"Tweet tweet, CZW followers! You may have heard about this one on your 'Tweeter' accounts. You may have heard about this one on your MySpace contraptions. But what you're hearing…right now…coming out of the lips of_ _us_ _, the Switchblade Conspiracy, is that we're coming to Tangled Web Two, and we're coming to take it ALL!" Sami Callihan growled at the camera._

" _Tonight, Dragons, you have the chance to put this all to bed right now. This only has to go on as long as you're willing to let it," drawled Jon Moxley. "You can come out here tonight, put out your effort in front of the cameras and all these fans and feel good about it, and just accept the fact that we're better."_

" _Hehehe, you gotta be pretty fuckin' stupid if you wanna keep comin' back for more!" giggled Savannah Rose, her arms looped around Moxley's neck and her head lying on his shoulder. "My boys are gonna fuck - you - up."_

" _How many mornings are you willing to roll your broken asses out of bed and look in the mirror, look in your own eyes and realise…that we're better than you?" Moxley asked rhetorically. "We're never gonna stop, and you're never gonna get one over on us."_

" _Never gonna win! Always gonna break!" Rose taunted._

" _And at the end of the night, Dragons, everything you have will not be enough to beat us!" warned Callihan. "When you're beaten and bloody in the middle of the ring, the legends of the Naptown Dragons- DEAD. And the Conspiracy will take our Switchblade army and we will BURN the legend of CZW and this building to the ground!"_

" _Beaten and bloody…beaten and bloody…beaten and bloody…" Rose kept repeating in the background, staring directly at the camera, her eyes vacant._

" _We're better, we're faster, we're stronger," Moxley added cockily. "We hit harder for longer, and it'll go on for as long as it has to. Or you can just end it tonight, and if I know you, the smart money is that you quit."_

" _Gonna be quitters! Never gonna win! Always gonna break!" Rose happily said again._

" _Everything you've ever earned in this sport," Moxley continued. "You're gonna hand it over to us. You're gonna quit."_

" _The incy-wincy Dragons got tangled in the web," sang Rose. "In came the Blades and left them both for dead! Hehehe!" She and Callihan both made cutthroat gestures at the camera before Callihan covered the lens with his hand._

"Still the best promo we've done, I say," I remarked, closing the video and putting my phone away.

"You nearly killed us," Scotty pointed out.

"Yeah, _nearly_. Man up, dude," I dismissed.

"I'm sorry, but I'm still surprised Mox let you out by yourself dressed like that, Sav," he commented, clinking his shot glass against mine before we both threw back the whiskey contained in them.

"You've said that six times in four hours, Vortekz. He was fine with it," I lied, smoothing down my tiny checked miniskirt. Oh God, Jon was so not fine with it. Or he wouldn't be, had he been there when I left. My skirt was so short that not only did it literally _just_ cover my ass, but my suspender holdups were exposed by about two inches of skin between the end of my skirt and the tops of my stockings. My black knotted shirt was made of just enough material to cover my boobs and my black stiletto heels were five inches high and decorated with spikes.

"Shit, if my girl was walking around like this without me, I'd be fucking worried," added Sami.

"Oh please, Mox knows I'm not about to go and bang some random dude," I said with a roll of my eyes. I gestured at the arm of my seat. "Look, I even borrowed his leather jacket just so assholes can see I'm taken."

"Don't think that's gonna stop a lot of guys," Scotty snorted.

I whacked him hard on the shoulder. "It's you guys saying shit like that what makes him not trust me!"

"What makes you think he doesn't trust you?" Sami said sarcastically.

"Gee, Callihan, I don't know, maybe the fact he turned my face into one giant bruise the last time he saw me dance with you," I said mordantly.

"I still can't believe you got an apology out of him for that," he said, shaking his head.

"Probably because I didn't _actually_ do anything wrong," I shot back, holding my hand up to the bartender for another shot.

"You know Mox, if he thinks he's right, then he's right," Scotty said with a shrug.

"I think Sami should just be grateful I persuaded Jon otherwise so he didn't punch the little emo's lights out," I said casually.

"Yeah, because his fucking jealousy is my fault," Sami muttered.

"I didn't say it was, don't try that shit with me," I warned.

"Where is he tonight anyway? Meant to ask earlier," asked Scotty.

"He was at the gym, then he said he was gonna have an early night since he's got that big match against Drake tomorrow," I replied. I looked at my phone inside my pink Gameboy-shaped purse. 1.27AM.

"Jon Moxley having an early night? I don't believe it," Scotty said with a grin.

"You're such an asshole," I teased. "Sometimes Jon is actually capable of acting like a functioning human being. It's rare, but it happens."

"Must be the girlfriend effect," Sami mocked.

"Nah, Jon's a dickhead with or without me. Wrestling is his one true love, after all," I said, trying to keep the bitterness out of my voice.

"His jealousy rubbing off on you, Rose?" he smirked.

"Eat a dick, Callihan," I snapped, downing my vodka. "Just for that, you've earned the privilege to walk me home to Jon's place."

"What the fuck?! No! No fucking way!" he protested.

"Yes fucking way. Jon said," I said sweetly, holding up my phone displaying the text from earlier that read **Won't be awake to come get you so make Callihan walk you back. I don't trust the fuckers on the streets at night.** "Do you really want to argue with that?"

"God fucking damn it," he grumbled.

"Get your coat, honey," I said smugly, grabbing Jon's jacket and draping it around my shoulders, then kissed Scotty on the cheek. "Catch you tomorrow, boo."

"Don't get Callihan arrested because the cops think he's picked up a hooker," he laughed.

"Rude!" I smacked him upside the head as a parting shot before Sami and I exited the bar and headed into the chilly Philadelphia night.

"So was Mox genuinely that pissed the other week?" Sami asked me after about fifteen minutes of walking.

I sighed heavily. "You saw the state of my face, Sami. He has never gone off like that before, not towards me. He said he had to leave 'before he hurt me.' If he didn't think he'd hurt me before then what the fuck did he think he was gonna do if he didn't leave? I just don't…I don't understand why he doesn't trust me when _he's_ the one always cheating."

"It freaks him out," said Sami. "The whole 'relationship' thing. Before you came along, he fucked about three different girls a night. Suddenly you're there, asking for commitment-"

"Hold up a sec," I said angrily. "I did not _ask_ for commitment! We mutually decided to give a relationship a go, he's the one who couldn't stick it out but still keeps agreeing to try again!"

"Maybe you should stop trying then!"

"Damn, why didn't I think of that? Oh wait, I did," I said sardonically. "The idea didn't appeal. I _want_ to try. If I've managed to drop my ho ways then why can't he?"

"Because Jon's never happier than when he's got his dick in someone," Sami said bluntly.

"Wow, thanks for that one. Real confidence boost," I muttered. "Remind me to suplex your ass through the ground in our next match."

"I'm just being honest with you, Sav," he said quickly. "You can't change him."

"Yes I can," I insisted. "He just…needs to grow up a little. It'll happen."

"Mhm. Sure he will," he said doubtfully. "Honestly, with how fucked off he was last week and the week before, I thought you'd told him about-"

"Shut up, Sami!" I interrupted harshly. "That was weeks ago! You were single and at the time, so was I! We are _not_ talking about it! If that was how Jon reacted to us just dancing together then how the fuck would he take it if he found out we've actually had sex, regardless of he and I being broken up when it happened?!"

"He'd probably fucking kill both of us," Sami reluctantly acknowledged.

"Exactly. And I don't know about you, but I like having a pulse. And a boyfriend."

"Hey, I won't argue. It's called a one night stand for a reason."

"And this is why you're my best friend. There's no drama with you."

"Aw, I love you too, Rose," he ribbed, elbowing me lightly.

"Remember I told you to eat a dick earlier? Apply that statement to now," I snickered. "You coming in for a coffee or something? Sober up a little?"

"Sure, I'm game."

By now we were walking up the front path to Jon's house and I pushed my spare key into the lock…then frowned. "That's weird. It didn't click. Jon always locks the door at night."

"Maybe he is still up," Sami suggested, shrugging.

"No, that's not it…" I pushed the door open. "Look, there's no lights on. Maybe he forgot. Whatever." I stepped inside and hung Jon's jacket on the rail by the door and kicked off my heels before wandering through to the kitchen, flicking lights on as I went. "You want black or a- what the _fuck_ was that?" Something in the room above the kitchen - Jon's bedroom - had just made a very loud, very _female_ moaning noise.

Oh. Fuck. No.

Sami saw my face contorting in rage and quickly moved to block the door. "Sav, calm down, it's probably not what you think!" he said hastily.

"Like _fuck_ it isn't!" I snarled, stepping up to him. "Get the fuck out of my way, Callihan, before I _make_ you get out of the way!" I could hear the bed creaking. My blood was boiling. I was about to lose my shit completely.

"Sav-"

"GET OUT OF MY WAY!" I completely flipped, grabbed Sami by the collar and slammed him against the wall before barreling past him and up the stairs. "JON MOXLEY, I SWEAR TO FUCKING GOD!"

"Oh fuck!" I heard him curse in hushed tones, and three seconds later I kicked open the bedroom door to see him scrambling off some random bleached blonde whore. She was naked, he was naked. I wasn't fucking stupid.

"HOW FUCKING DARE YOU?!" I screeched, storming up to the two of them and seizing the blonde by her shockingly obvious black roots. Ignoring her yells and cries of pain, the adrenaline flooding through me gave me the strength to drag her clean out of the bed and shove her ten feet across the floor. "GET THE FUCK OUT OF HERE, YOU DISGUSTING LITTLE TRAMP!" I didn't give a fuck if she was naked, if she didn't get out of my sight in approximately 1.07 seconds, I was gonna put her in the facial reconstruction surgery unit.

"M-my c-clothes," she stuttered. The fucking nerve! I saw her shit in a pile at the foot of the bed, so I seized hold of it, stomped out of the room and threw it down the stairs then returned to the bedroom, my eyes wide and wild; I think one of them was actually twitching. "Are down there. Now FUCK OFF!" The bitch ran out of that room and downstairs like her ass was on fire. The front door opened and shut a few seconds later, and that's when I rounded on Jon.

"ARE YOU KIDDING ME?! ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?!" I screamed.

"Babydoll, it's not what it looks like!" he tried insisting, pulling up his boxers.

"DON'T YOU 'BABYDOLL' ME, YOU MOTHERFUCKER! IT'S NOT WHAT IT LOOKS LIKE?! IT LOOKS LIKE YOU'RE FUCKING ANOTHER WOMAN IN OUR BED! TELL ME I'M WRONG! LIE TO ME AGAIN! I FUCKING DARE YOU!" I was beside myself, grabbing hold of a picture frame on the wall and hurling it at him, catching him on the arm.

"Jesus fuck! Babydoll…" Jon took two steps towards me, and I took two steps back. "Rosie, kitten, just hear me out-"

"I AM NOT FUCKING HEARING YOU OUT!" I screeched. "HOW MANY TIMES, JON?! HOW MANY TIMES ARE YOU GONNA DO THIS?! WHAT, YOU THINK I DON'T KNOW HOW MANY SLUTS YOU NAIL BEHIND MY BACK?! I'M NOT A FUCKING IDIOT! WHY?! WHY AM I NEVER GOOD ENOUGH FOR YOU?! WHY DO YOU DO THIS TO ME?! IT'S LIKE YOU DON'T EVEN TRY TO STAY FAITHFUL! I HAVEN'T TOUCHED ANOTHER MAN SINCE WE GOT BACK TOGETHER BUT YOU FUCK ANOTHER GIRL EVERY OTHER WEEK!"

Jon clearly did not like me talking to him like this, IE, being called out on his shit. He turned nasty almost instantaneously. "You're a wreck, Rosie. This is why. Because you're so fucking needy and clingy. No wonder Daddy left you."

That was a a low blow and it hit way too hard. "YOU SON OF A BITCH!" I went to take a running tackle at him but a set of arms snaked around my waist and lifted me up. Sami had finally joined us. I struggled in his grip and threw every insult I knew at Jon. "I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU, I HATE YOU, I HATE YOU!"

All he did was laugh darkly. "Aw, what, you gonna cry? Did I hit a nerve? Or is poor little Rosie jealous of the nasty ring rat? Come on, baby, lighten up. It was just some fun."

"YOU DON'T NEED TO HAVE 'FUN' WITH ANY OTHER FUCKING GIRL EXCEPT ME! I'M SUPPOSED TO BE YOUR GIRLFRIEND!" I shrieked, trying to break away but Sami had a firm hold on me.

"Let her go, Sam," Jon said, pretending to yawn. "This could be interesting."

"Fuck no! What the fuck is wrong with you, Mox?!" he grunted, struggling to keep me in his arms.

Jon chuckled then looked directly at me. "I told you, kitten, I got needs. Saw that chick at the gym, knew you wouldn't be home and thought fuck it. That enough of a reason for ya?"

"HOW DARE YOU!" I fought even harder against Sami but he clung on; for five foot ten, he was a strong little fucker. "YOU'RE A SHITTY PERSON, A SHITTY BOYFRIEND, AND _I DON'T WANT YOU ANYMORE_! WE'RE OVER!"

Jon laughed again and taunted, "Sure. We're over. Just like the last four times we've been over, right?"

A sudden wave of exhaustion flew over me. I just couldn't be bothered to fight any more. "Sami, put me down," I quietly said.

"Sav…" He sounded hesitant.

"It's okay," I said, and he did let go of me. I looked at Jon with tears flooding my eyes. I didn't even care at this point. "This is it. I am not playing these fucking games anymore. We are done, Jon. Keep the fuck away from me."

"Okay, darlin', I'll make sure to do just that," Jon said sarcastically. "Please, you'll be back. You always come back."

"Yeah? Well not this fucking time," I spat. "Congratulations, cunt, because you just lost the best thing that ever happened to you."

Jon blew a patronizing kiss at me. "Don't let the door hit you where the good Lord split you, bitch."

"By the way, Sami's dick is so much bigger than yours." I delivered my parting shot with as much venom as I could muster and watched with relish as Jon's face turned a mottled shade of purpley-red.

"Shit," Sami mumbled before grabbing the top of my arm and steering me towards the stairs. "We are getting out of here, now."

This was followed by a roar of, "YOU FUCKERS!" from the bedroom as we reached the hallway. Sami tossed my shoes at me and shoved me out the door, dragging me up the pathway.

"Do you want me to call us a cab?" Sami asked sympathetically when we were halfway down the street.

I slowly nodded as the realisation of what I'd just done hit me. "Oh…oh God…Sami…I…I broke up with him. I ended it! What have I done?!" My face crumpled and I totally broke down in the middle of the street, hands pressed against my face as I sobbed.

"Come here, girl." Sami removed his CZW hoodie and wrapped it around my shoulders before pulling me into a tight hug. "He don't deserve you. You're a good girl, even if you do paint this hard-ass exterior around yourself."

"I love him, Sami," I wept into his chest. "I love him so much and he doesn't know or care. Why doesn't he want to love me? Why doesn't anyone?"

"I love you, Sav. You're my best friend and you mean the fucking world to me," he said. "Jon's a fucking idiot and he can't see when he's got something good right in front of him."

"That's not t-true. He c-can see, he j-just doesn't c-care!" I howled. "He d-doesn't c-care about m-me, Sami! He n-never has a-and h-he never w-will!"

"Sav, he-"

"N-no, Sami. You know I'm r-right."

All he did was sigh.

"And I'm s-sorry I t-told h-him about u-us," I choked out. "I w-wasn't th-thinking. I just w-wanted to h-hurt h-him…"

"It's fine. We'll…we'll deal with that tomorrow at the show," he said.

"Oh G-God, the show!" I wailed. "I'm supposed to be his valet! W-what do I do n-now?! If I d-don't do th-that then I w-won't b-be in the show at a-all!"

"Be mine instead. There's a way around everything, Sav, this isn't the end of the world." How was Sami so different from the guy he portrayed in the ring? I'd never understand. "Come on, let's get that cab and get you home."

"P-please don't leave me," I croaked, clinging to him.

"I got you, girl. Don't worry," he replied, tightening his arms around me and holding me until my crying turned hoarse.

* * *

 _ **~ 2013 ~**_

* * *

"No, no, no, you gotta be kidding me!" I groaned, fighting to keep my temper at bay and not punch the hotel concierge in the fucking face. After landing and meeting up with the boys in the airport's Costa Coffee, we'd piled into our rental car and headed straight for our hotel. However, upon arrival…

"Miss Jordan, please accept our sincerest apologies," said the concierge, desperately tapping at his computer. "I honestly don't understand how your reservation has been deleted. There's simply no record of it in our database."

"Sucks to be you, Rosie," Dean snorted, earning himself an elbow to the ribs from Seth.

"She needs to stay here, she should have a room!" Seth insisted. "Sir, please."

"Mr Rollins, I can't just make a free room appear for her. We are fully booked for tonight."

"Don't worry about it, guys," I sighed. "There's gotta be a motel or something nearby. This country does have motels, right? That's not just an American thing?"

"No way are you staying on your own while we're here," Roman affirmed. He looked at the concierge. "Tap at your little keyboard there and change the reservation under Roman Reigns to two people."

"Mr Reigns, that's a highly unorthodox request," the concierge said tentatively.

"I don't care. Change it," Roman ordered.

"Roman, it's honestly fine," I tried to insist as I tugged on his arm, but he brushed me off.

"It's not fine," he argued. "And you're not staying by yourself. End of story." Meanwhile, the concierge had been frantically typing away at his screen. Roman had practically scared the crap out of him. I was soon handed a key with 138 engraved on the keyring. "Th-there you are, Miss Jordan. Room One Thirty Eight. Again, allow me to apologise for this terrible mix-up and please let me know if there is anything else we can do for you during your stay."

"Thanks a lot," I mumbled, feeling a little guilty. "Come on guys, let's go get unpacked." I needed to have a little talk with Mr Reigns.

"Damn Roman, what the hell was that down there?!" I demanded once we were in his - no, wait, _our_ \- room. I was trying to cover the panic quelling in my chest about the fact there was only a double bed in here with my annoyance. "I would have been fine to find myself another place to stay!"

"God, you don't have to always be so stubborn, Red," he retorted, sitting down on the edge of said bed. "Just say thanks and we can be done with it."

"Look, it's not that I'm not grateful, I am," I backtracked. "But Jesus, that poor dude at check-in nearly had a nervous breakdown! There are better way to ask for favours."

"He was being awkward. It was be firm or you end up on your own. I'm still kicking myself for letting you fly by yourself when I knew you were freaking out."

"Yeah, about my flight…" I started to say, then trailed off and decided to change my mind. "I wasn't freaking out that much. I made it here, didn't I?" I sat down next to him and placed my hand on his thigh. "I told you, you're not always gonna be there to save me."

"May as well try as long as I can," he muttered.

"It's not that deep, Ro. You're my best friend and I appreciate what you're trying to do but chill. I'm fine, and I'll be fine with or without you."

* * *

"Nice pyjamas," Roman joked when I stepped out of the bathroom in my Arkham Asylum bottoms and black tank a few hours later. "Especially loving the top." It read _All I Want Is Pizza and Hot Sex._

"Fuck you," I scowled, flipping him the bird. "I've had this top since I was like twenty-two. Believe it or not, I'd actually wear it out in public."

"You little rebel," he snorted, opening the closet and grabbing a few blankets.

"I can take the couch," I said guilitly. "I feel bad taking the bed."

"Don't, it's fine," he replied. "It's just one night. I'll live." He proceeded to lay the blankets out on the large couch situated opposite the bed, collapsing onto it with a groan.

"Listen…I kind of want to talk to you about something…" I said, climbing into the bed and cocooning the covers around me. I sat up so I could face him, biting my lip.

"Shoot, baby girl," he said, sounding surprised. "What's up?"

"This kinda awkward for me to ask, and like…I'm not trying to make it weird between us or have you think I'm being all possessive and jealous or whatever, because I swear I'm not. I just…argh, I don't know how to word this!"

"Jesus, Red, spit it out before you give yourself an aneurysm."

"On the plane, I had the absolute delight of sitting next to Summer. Summer Rae." Roman's face remained stoic, so I decided to raise my voice. "You know, your _ex-girlfriend_."

Roman cringed. "Fuck. Okay, that's not true, she-"

"Why would she make it up, Roman!?" My heart sank. "She told me that in FCW, you and her dated for that time she managed you! You never thought to bring that up? You know practically everything about my dating history-" He knew about Dean…some stuff about Dean…fuck, I was a hypocrite. "-but I know nothing about yours! We're supposed to be friends! I thought friends spoke about this kind of shit!"

"Didn't think it'd interest you," he mumbled. "She didn't make it up, okay? But she's blown it way out of proportion. We didn't date. Hooked up for a few months, sure, but date? Nah. No way."

"So why'd she say you dated? Hm?" I challenged.

"Because she hates you?" he bluntly suggested. "I mean, I hate to be blunt but you hate each other. She's gonna try to piss you off, isn't she?"

"Well- well why would she use you to piss me off?" I said quickly, nervously laughing. "I don't care who you dated in developmental! Nope! Not at all!"

Roman quirked a brow. "Are you bipolar? That's a serious question. You just bugged out over who I dated literally thirty seconds ago. Now you don't care? Sav, what is up with you?"

"Goodnight Roman!" I squeaked, flicking the light switch over the bed and plunging the room into darkness. I was not ready for this conversation to happen.

* * *

I awoke at around 3 in the morning to the sound of scuffling. Rubbing sleep out of my eyes, I yawned quietly and sat up, trying to adjust my eyes to the darkness. "Roman? Is that you?"

"Shit, did I wake you up?" His voice was quiet.

"I think so, but don't worry about it. Why are you still awake?"

"A spring or something kept poking in my back. I'm trying to sleep on the floor."

"Why the fuck are you doing that, you idiot?"

"...because a spring is poking in my back. Was that a trick question?"

"No, I meant why are you on the floor?" _Deep breath, Sav._ "There's space in the bed. If you want. We've got the show tomorrow, you won't be doing much wrestling if you're stiff as a board."

He hesitated. "Are you sure? I don't wanna…like, make you feel uncomfortable."

"It's fine, I promise. I don't want you laying on the damn floor when I'm the one who gatecrashed the bed anyway." I pushed back the covers. "Get your Samoan ass up here."

I heard even more shuffling noises coming from the dark, followed by footsteps, and finally the other side of the bed dipped down. Heat radiated off Roman the second her pulled the duvet over himself, something I greatly appreciated given that November in England was fucking _freezing_. "Wanna spoon?" he joked.

"Ass." I slapped him on the back, only to come into contact with warm, smooth skin. "Roman? Where's your shirt?"

"I don't sleep in a shirt," he replied. "Too constricting."

"...Oh." Okay, I could totally keep calm. I was only sharing a bed with a shirtless Roman Reigns. That was cool. No need for ovary overload whatsoever. Oh God, by this point Pathetic may as well have been my middle name. "Welp, nighty-night. See you in the morning."

"'Night, baby girl. I'll try not to wake you up," Roman said with a yawn. He was out cold in what seemed like seconds. Me, on the other hand…I laid there for some time, staring at Roman's silhouette. He'd never want me. Not the way I wanted him to. Not even the way he'd wanted Summer all those years ago. Guys didn't want me for long term. Only flings. It was all I was good for. Fuck me then chuck me. Every guy in my life had treated me the same way. So why would Roman ever be any different?

* * *

 ** _~ October 2009 ~_**

* * *

 **I'm a fucking idiot.**

 _Why are you texting me? I can't keep doing this, Moxley. Leave me alone._

 **I can't. Don't you fucking get that? I can't leave you alone, babydoll.**

 _Wasn't what you were calling me before. 'Bitch' 'clingy' 'needy' and 'fucker' all seem to come to mind._

 **I was pissed! You'd just told me you've fucked my best friend!**

 _I WALKED IN ON YOU FUCKING ANOTHER WOMAN AND YOU'RE TRYING TO MAKE THIS OUT TO BE MY FAULT?! FUCK YOU, JON MOXLEY. I'm blocking your number._

 **Don't! Rosie, just hear me out. You can't keep hiding from me every time you see me at work.**

 _It's working pretty well at the minute._

 **Kitten. Do I need to fucking spell this out for you? I want you back, babydoll. Those other bitches ain't shit compared to you.**

 _Well isn't that sweet. Should have thought of that before you shoved your cock in all those sluts._

 **You're really not gonna make this easy for me, are you?**

 _Why should I? You cheated on me. Again. You broke my heart. Again. You blamed it on me. Again._

 **Come over. Just talk to me. Rosie, I don't beg very often but I swear to fuck, I'm not leaving this alone until you talk to me.**

 _...fine. Fucking fine. I'll be over in 20._ _Don't expect this to change anything, Jon._

 **I never do. See you soon, babydoll.**

* * *

 **A/N- Small disclaimer, I know that Dean didn't actually sign with CZW until mid-2009 but for the sake of the story, he signed in early 2008. All cool. Anyhoo, thanks for reading! Even though I know this was very much a filler chapter (there are BIG THINGS coming in chapter 15!) please leave a review! It means so much! Xx Gee xX**

 **Songs for Chapter Fourteen:**

 **Flashback 1  
** _ **Three Days Grace - I Hate Everything About You**_

 **Flashback 2  
** _ **Eminem ft. Rihanna - Love The Way You Lie  
**_ _ **Pierce The Veil - Dive In**_

 **Flashback 3  
** _ **Kelly Clarkson - Behind These Hazel Eyes**_

 **Present Day  
** _ **Hit The Lights - Tell Me Where You Are**_


	15. Closer

**A/N - Really going for it with this chapter. Like, Jesus, I've been waiting to write this one since the day I started this fic! That being said, let's get on with it, shall we? As it is, huge thanks as usual to angelsdee327 (thank you SO much for your reviews! I can't begin to tell you what that meant to me!), DenyingTheTruth, Wrestlechic1 and Shield316 for reviewing!**

* * *

 **Chapter Fifteen - Closer**

 _ **SavvyAsHellWWE: RT ShieldGirl56: 'So like, is #Rovannah a thing yet? They couldn't be more obvious tbh.' Oh God, we have a ship name. What next, fanfiction?  
**_ _ **Tweeted 11/11/2013 11.35AM GMT**_

 _ **WWERollins: SavvyAsHellWWE, I did find this pretty spicy one about the two of you getting trapped in an elevator.  
**_ _ **Tweeted 11/11/2013 11.39AM GMT**_

 _ **SavvyAsHellWWE: WWERollins, go to hell before I pour all your hair bleach down the toilet.  
**_ _ **Tweeted 11/11/2013 11.46AM GMT**_

 _ **WWERollins: SavvyAsHellWWE, you wouldn't dare!  
**_ _ **Tweeted 11/11/2013 11.50AM GMT**_

 _ **SavvyAsHellWWE: WWERollins, watch me, hipster boy. #SorryNotSorry  
**_ _ **Tweeted 11/11/2013 11.52AM GMT**_

I honestly didn't expect to wake up the next morning with Roman's arms wrapped tightly around me. I also didn't expect to wake up with his morning wood nestled against my back but hey, good things come to those who wait. Keeping my eyes closed, I softly smiled to myself. I would be perfectly content to lay here in his arms for hours.

Unfortunately, I knew I'd have to return to reality soon enough. I slowly reached out from under the covers to grab my phone from the bedside table, clicking the home button to see what time it was. 8.09. Huh, we really didn't need to get up for an hour or so. Maybe we wouldn't get up at all. My scheduled photoshoot wasn't until 3 in the afternoon. We didn't need to be at the Phones 4U Arena until at least 6 o'clock tonight. Roman and I could stay in bed together all day, watch movies, order room service…yeah right, keep dreaming, Savvy. Save the couples shit for your imagination.

I locked the phone and placed it back down, laying back and snuggling down under the covers. Roman was so warm against me, like my own personal heater. At least like this, I could pretend what it would be like if I wasn't such a jaded chicken shit. Roman's tattooed arm was around me, his hand resting on the mattress just by my hip. I lightly traced my finger over the intricate inking, marvelling at the detailing.

The tattoo ended just above his wrist and I found myself wondering why. Maybe he'd left it blank so he could put the name of his next girlfriend there or something. I also enjoyed the way tattooed skin felt under my fingertip; soft and velvety. I'd had all my tattoos done at separate times with months in between each one, I couldn't imagine sitting in a tattooist's chair for hours on end to get a whole sleeve. It made me admire Roman that little bit more.

"Tell me that's you and there's not a spider on my arm," he suddenly mumbled, his voice scratchy with sleep.

I laughed quietly. "Why? Is big, bad Roman Reigns scared of spiders?"

"Depends on how many man points I'll lose if I say yes." His arm disappeared from around me and he turned around, lying on his back. I rolled around to lie on my other side, facing him. He had his arms crossed under his head, his long hair fanned around him and the duvet lying across his midsection. Oh God, he was exposing bare chest. _Okay, keep calm, keep calm._

"I would say that loses you…ten man points," I said. "So you're still sitting on a solid eighty-five."

"When did I lose the other five?!" he jokingly demanded.

"When you ordered yourself a dry martini in Chicago and it wasn't for a dare. What self-respecting man drinks a martini?!"

"Excuse me for having some class."

"Class or just highly feminine tastes?"

"You're wounding my ego and I don't appreciate it." He rolled back onto his side to face me. I smiled. He smiled. "So, got any plans for our first full day in England?"

"I've got a photoshoot and interview for the UK edition of Cosmopolitan this afternoon," I answered. "Other than that, nothing really. You and the guys got any plans?"

He shook his head. "Nope. Those two wanna spend all day in the gym but I'm feeling so jet-lagged I can't be bothered."

I let out a small yawn, trying not to blow my morning breath in his face. "I feel that. Well, if you want, you can come with me. We could do some sightseeing beforehand…or some shopping."

"Shopping?" He quirked a brow.

My smile grew wider. "I read online about this huge mall called the Trafford Centre. Lucky for us, it's only a half hour from here. You wanna?"

He pretended to heave a huge sigh. "Fine. I guess I'll come with you. I could use a new pair of sneakers and I may as well get one souvenir while we're here."

"I guess we should think about getting up then." Neither of us moved. "Or we could lay here for a few more hours until we're forced to move?" I suggested.

"I like that idea better."

"Awesome, so do I." I sat up and leaned over the side of the bed, rummaging around in the compartment in the bedside table.

"What are you doing?" Roman asked, grabbing the remote from the table his side and clicking on the TV across from us, turning on what appeared to be some kind of talk show called _This Morning_.

"Looking for the room service menu," I replied, surfacing with the two-page booklet in my hands. I flicked it open and immediately found the breakfast section. "I don't know about you, but I am _definitely_ trying one of those English fry-up things."

 _ **An hour later…**_

"Of course he's not the fucking father!" I yelled at the TV. "The kid's ginger and both him and her have black hair!"

" _What_ are you watching?" Roman asked me as he emerged from the bathroom with his hair wrapped in a towel.

"It's called _The Jeremy Kyle Show_ ," I explained. "It's like _Jerry Springer_ but with way worse dentistry. I guess it's true; Brits really do have shit teeth."

"Does that say-" Roman squinted at the caption at the bottom of the screen.

"My ex had a threesome in a bus stop so prove our son is mine," I read aloud. "Yes, yes it does. Isn't this delightful morning viewing? Fucking hell."

"There are other words I'd use first, but I guess delightful works."

"What I don't understand, yeah, is that this ugly bitch has three - count them, _three_ \- equally as ugly dickheads fighting over her, but I haven't had a boyfriend since 2010. How does that work?"

"Maybe she has a really nice personality," Roman suggested.

"I'd agree, but." I gestured at the screen as three security guards charged on stage; two of the guys had started a fight. "What the fuck kinda country is this."

* * *

"I would say that was a successful trip," I commented, slamming the trunk of the rental car shut on my seven bags from the various shops I'd discovered inside the Trafford Centre.

"Oh, you'd 'say,' would you?" Roman teased, placing his one bag in the backseat before he got into the driver's seat.

"Don't get sarcastic with me, Reigns," I sniped, joining him in the passenger seat. "All I got was two pairs of jeans from Calvin Klein, a new pair of Nikes from Foot Locker, a Shark card for my online Grand Theft Auto account, some sweatpants from Hollister, some PJs from Victoria's Secret, some Vans, a few t-shirts and jackets from New Look and River Island…oh, these amazing Louboutin high-tops from Selfridges and, um, some bras from Ann Summers."

"You're right, that's all you got. How could I be so stupid?" Roman snorted.

"Well excuse you," I retorted. "I'm a woman, I shop. It's what we do."

"Don't know if you've noticed, Sav, but you're not exactly a normal woman," he shot back. "Anyway, where the hell am I meant to be going now?"

"Well first of all, I assume I'm meant to take that as a compliment. Second, fuck if I know. I've put the address into the GPS so just follow that."

The inner-city Manchester roads were absolutely brutal; people coming back from their lunch hours, cyclists clogging the place, buses, cabs, people in the streets. It was mayhem. We almost ended up driving straight past the office block we were looking for, we were so distracted. Thankfully though, we managed to find our way into the underground parking lot – after getting cleared by security – and headed into the elevator to the second floor. I'd had the sense to call ahead and let them know I'd have a plus one.

"Savannah, it is so great to meet you!" a bubbly brunette greeted me. "And Roman, hi. I'm Tess and I'll be conducting your interview today. Can I get you both anything? Tea, coffee?"

"Um, I'd love a cup of tea with two sugars, thanks," I said, removing my beanie hat, scarf, gloves and black trench coat. Look, we were in England, I was trying to be classy. This was not a place for hoodies and Doc Martens.

"A black coffee, please," said Roman.

Tess nodded. "Of course, no problem. Amelia!" A young pale woman with half blonde, half black coloured hair split down the parting hurried over. Jesus Christ, she looked like a female Seth. Fucking hipsters. I was surrounded by the things. "One tea with two sugars and a black coffee, please."

"Sure thing, Tess." She ran her eyes appreciatively over Roman, smirking. As if like a reflex, my fist clenched. _Calm down Sav, don't deck the intern…_

"So, where we shooting this thing?" I asked calmly.

"We have a studio downstairs that we're using," Tess explained as she began to lead Roman and I down the corridor. "We have a pool down there which we're using for the shoot since we're going for a tropical feeling and…well, it's not exactly beach weather. By the way, I'm loving your jumper! Very kitsch."

I grinned at her. My sweater - I assume she meant sweater - was white with a black block in the middle that said UNICORN TEARS. It was the closest thing I had to acceptable winter wear. "Aw, thanks hun. I got all professional for today, normally I'm just in a tank top and a pair of Js."

"So you're a woman who can do both? I like it!" She paused outside of a door with my name written on it. "So, here's your dressing room. Your first outfit is in there and we'll be sending Hair and Makeup in about twenty minutes to get you made up. We'll take the shots, then ask you a few question and we're wrapped up. Sound good?"

"Sounds like a plan," I agreed. "Thanks for the opportunity."

"It's no problem. You have a huge female fanbase over here, it's your chance for them to see the real you." At the same time Tess said this, Amelia came scampering up with two takeout cups and handed them to Roman and I. I smiled sweetly at her and her hipster hair.

"Well, anything you wanna know, I'm happy to answer," I told her.

"You're gonna be a delight to work with, I can just tell," Tess said with a smile.

"I could get used to this," I said to Roman once we were left alone in my dressing room, taking a sip of my tea.

"You hate photoshoots," Roman pointed out, reclining back on the small couch by the wall.

"I like them when I get a chance to be myself," I said, unzipping my riding boots and kicking them off. "I love a good tell-all interview."

"So that's what you're gonna do, huh? Tell it all?"

"You'll see, won't you, Mr Reigns." I pointed to the clothing bag hanging up. "Can you pass me that? I'm too lazy to move."

"Sorry, I didn't realise I'd been brought here as your personal assistant," he quipped, getting up and grabbing the black bag. He made a big show of presenting it to me, getting down on his knees and everything. "My Queen."

"That's Siren or Vixen to you, peasant," I giggled, tugging at his ponytail before taking the bag from him. "But thank you, I guess this means I owe you something now."

He turned his head to the side and tapped his cheek. "Lay one on me, baby girl."

I giggled again. "My hero." I leaned down and pressed my lips briefly to his cheek, accidentally catching the corner of his mouth. Shit, that was not supposed to happen. I quickly pulled back and shot him a goofy smile, all 'haha whoops clumsy me!'

"Do you actually want me out there with you while you're having the shoot?" Roman casually asked, standing up.

I shrugged. "That's up to you. It'd be pretty cool to have you out there." I kept my voice just as casual as he did. "Right, let's see what we've got in here. I wanna know what theme they've gone with. What do you think, hula skirts or Daisy Dukes?" I unzipped the bag and reached inside, grabbing hold of the coat hanger. I pulled it out, only to discover a floral bikini with tie straps.

"I, er, think I've worked out the theme," Roman said awkwardly.

* * *

Hand on heart, that ended up being one of the most fun photoshoots I'd ever been on. As planned, one of our WWE photographers and cameramen turned up about halfway through to shoot some 'behind the scenes' stuff for the WWE website. Since my shoots at work tended to involve being in my gear, I figured this would be a great time to show my other girlier side. It was rare, but sometimes it came out.

The set was designed to look like a tropical poolside, _very_ different to the grey Manchester bleakness outside. I had four different bikini changes over the two hour shoot, each one hotter than the last. And – not that I was paying _that_ much attention – I couldn't help but notice that Roman barely took his eyes off me as I posed this way and that. He looked especially appreciatively at me as I'd laid by the side of the pool in a different floral bikini to the first, fake sunlight shining on my exposed skin with my arm draped across my head.

I was now sat in my regular jeans and sweater back in the dressing room with Tess firing questions at me. We'd been in here for the better part of a half hour; surely the questions would stop soon.

"So out of the four of you in The Shield, who would you say takes the piss out of the others the most?"

"Ooh, tough question. I'd say it's a tie between me and Dean. Like, I'm the youngest, the 'little sister.' It's basically my job to torment them. But…on the other hand, Dean put food colouring in Roman's hair conditioner last week and trust me, you do not fuck with Roman's hair routine. As you can imagine, the Shield locker room is a real party."

"And speaking of Dean, the two of you used to date, right?"

"Er, a long time ago, yeah."

"What was that like? It must have been an amicable split for the two of you to be so close nowadays."

"Far from it, actually. I don't think we could have had a more splintered separation if we'd tried. It was messy, it was brutal and to be honest, I have got no idea how we've actually become friends. I guess I'm good at forgiving people."

"And how would you describe the relationship itself?"

"Um…tumultuous is probably a good place to start. I don't really want to go into a lot of detail about it since Dean's kinda weird about his private life, but we weren't good for each other. I'll leave it at that." I tried to stifle a yawn, sipping my fresh cup of tea.

"Tired?" Tess joked.

I smiled at her. "Yeah, jetlag's a bitch. Sorry, I'm not trying to be disrespectful or anything."

"Don't worry about it," she said. "If I'd been on a transatlantic flight, sleep deprivation would probably be kicking my arse too. Don't worry, I've only got three more questions then we can wrap up."

"No worries. Hit me."

"So, as we established earlier, you've been wrestling since you were fourteen years old. That's eleven years, right?"

"Yup, I've been wrestling pretty much almost half my life."

"Who would you consider to be the inspirations behind chasing those dreams? Who did you look at as that fourteen-year-old Savannah and think, 'Wow, I want to be like you?'"

"Well…my main inspiration in taking up wrestling was my mom's death. She'd died at the start of 2002 and er, I needed a distraction. By the end of the year, I realised how good I was and that I wanted to wrestle professionally, which was when I started watching WWE and old WWE videos. So, in terms of wrestlers, it was Lita, Jacqueline and Chyna who showed me who I could be. After that era passed, I really focussed on Mickie James and Victoria. They tangled with the guys, they were hot, they were sexy, they didn't care what people thought. I wanted to be like that. I _am_ like that."

"Right, right," she mumbled, scribbling stuff down on her notepad. "How about outside of wrestling?"

"Oh God, that one's easy. Eminem, one hundred percent," I said immediately. "His dad walked out on him and his mom when he was a baby, and my dad left when I was 15. Eminem proved he didn't need anyone like that to get him to the top, and neither did I. Plus, _8 Mile_ came out when I was having doubts about wrestling at the end of that first year. I watched it with a few friends, and the whole rags-to-riches, don't doubt your raw talent story spoke to me deeper than anything else ever had. Finding out that it was based on Eminem's whole life and what he overcame to get to where he was…I thought it was incredible. If he could break away from that then why couldn't I?"

"You know, out of every person I've ever interviewed," Tess said, looking up at me with a smile. "I've never met anyone as humble as you."

I shrugged. "Why be an ass about life, you know? I'm no one special, just Sav Jordan from Dallas. I remember where I came from, I remember who got me here and I know my shit ain't rose-scented."

"I love it, which actually brings me to my final question. Any romantic prospects on the horizon for Savannah Jordan?"

I shook my head with a false laugh. "Nope, nothing. I'm very happy by myself. Lone wolf and all that jazz."

"Wow, really?" Tess sounded disappointed. "I really thought-" She caught herself, but not before I saw her glance at Roman, who had been napping on the couch for the entire interview with his headphones clamped over his ears.

"Everyone does," I said, trying not to sound like a sad little child. "But no. No, Roman and I are just friends. Best friends, even. I'm perfectly happy like that."

* * *

 _ **~ One Week Later ~  
~ Sunday November 17**_ _ **th**_ _ **~  
~ Nashville, Tennessee ~**_

* * *

The European tour came and went with us picking up wins all over the continent. Okay, so our match in Manchester on Raw hadn't been a victory, per se, due to interference from the Wyatt Family - three hillbilly freaks who were a cross between trailer trash and the inbred family from _The Hills Have Eyes -_ but meh. Technicalities.

The Shield was getting stronger and stronger every time one of us - or all of us - stepped into the ring, and with Survivor Series just a week away, our game faces were _on_. It was looking likely that we were all gonna be involved in traditional matches; the boys were teaming up with The Real Americans to take on the Usos, the Rhodes brothers and whoever else they could find. Meanwhile, on the Diva side of things, AJ Lee was talking about putting a team of 'True Divas' together to try to knock off the Total Divas, which I would be only too happy to help with.

Either way, we were all gonna be kicking ass so we needed to be in the best shape we could be. I didn't care if every other woman on my team went down; I _would not_ let those reality bitches win. Sure, it'd involve taking out Nattie and Naomi but I'd have to deal with that in the aftermath. So from here on out, it was train, train, train.

Thankfully, the hotel we were staying in whilst in Nashville had a pretty high-tech gym. The four of us had been in here since check-in late this afternoon, after dumping our bags in our rooms and changing. I was in the zone, sweat dripping from every pore, my ADTR shorts were sticking to my thighs and my tank top was saturated but fuck it, LET'S DO THIS.

"Guys, come on, it's late," said Seth, shutting his treadmill down and stepping off. "We should get out of here." And then my vibe got killed. Yes, it was almost 10PM. Yes, we were the only people still in the gym. That didn't mean it was time to pack up shop.

"What?! No way!" I protested, pausing before I started to do my run up for yet another sloppy Superman punch. Oh yeah, forgot to mention. Roman had finally started training me and things weren't progressing as well as I'd hoped. As in, I sucked. Hard. I didn't like failing and now bitchy Sav was coming out to play. "I've nearly got it! I can't leave yet, are you kidding?!"

"Hey, I'm just thinking of the fact that we've got all got matches tomorrow and you always find a way to complain about being tired if you're up too late," he retorted, pulling his hair out of his man-bun.

"Fuck you, Rollins, I do not," I snapped, scowling. "I'm not leaving, and neither is Roman."

"Woah, when did I agree to that?" Roman asked, folding his arms.

"I assumed it was just predetermined when you agreed to teach me your stupid signature move. Which sucks, FYI, I don't know why you bother."

"Because I'm actually good at it?"

"Oh, shut up, I'll be good too. Eventually. Hell, I bet I'll be even better than you!"

"Hey!" Seth said loudly. "Jesus, you've been fine with each other the last few months, _please_ don't start this shit again. It's like dealing with teenagers."

"Teenagers that don't know the meaning of sexual tension," added Dean, grinning in that mischievous way of his.

" _Dean_!" Roman and I both said exasperatedly. He just raised his hands in an innocent gesture.

"Man, one of these days I am gonna end up Chainsawing your ass so hard I pop your shoulder blades out," I added, scowling at him.

"It's all that sexual frustration you've got," he quipped. "Makes you cranky."

"Right, say goodbye to your spine!" I shrieked, and Roman immediately wrapped his arms around my waist to keep me anchored down. Was I really that predictable? "I hate you and your stupid Samoan strength, you asshole."

"Sticks and stones, baby girl," he said smugly. Ah, and there were the oh-so familiar butterflies in my stomach as soon as Roman called me his baby girl. God, _when_ was I gonna be over this stupid crush!? I was irritating myself now.

Roman turned back to Dean and Seth but kept a firm grip around me like he was afraid the second he let go I'd attack Dean. "You guys go. If she wants to stay, we'll stay."

"Thank you," I said, going to fold my arms until I remembered that Roman had them pinned to my sides. "Yo, Reigns. Release." He did so, though he did seem hesitant. "You two run along now." I waved my hands in the direction of the gym doors. "Look, We won't be longer than a couple of hours. We'll meet up in one of our rooms tomorrow before Raw and watch some shit comedy movie, 'kay? Fuck, I'll even pay for pizza."

Both boys stayed quiet for a moment, clearly thinking this through. Then Seth nodded. "Fine. But we're choosing the movie."

"Deal," I said, and once again I pointed at the door. "Now, buh-bye. The longer you distract me, the longer I take to finish. Leave." And by some grace of God, the two of them actually listened to me. When I turned around to look at Roman, he had both eyebrows raised at me. "What?"

"Nothing. Nothing at all."

"Uh-huh, something. You're giving me that look."

"What look? I'm not giving you a look."

"Yes you are! You're giving me that disappointed look. Have we not established by now that I'm kinda aggressive?"

"'Kinda' aggressive might be understating it just slightly."

"You can be such a dickhead sometimes," I scoffed, turning back around to get back into training. "Help me!"

"Okay, let me stop you right there," Roman said as I tried to position myself. "Your body is too stiff. If you try running up like that then you're either gonna trip over or dislocate an elbow."

"Then tell me what to do!" I sulked, stamping my foot. "In case you haven't noticed this yet, but you haven't even been using the move all that much on TV! For all I know, you can't actually remember how to do it and you're just trying to make me look stupid!"

"I don't need to pretend to coach you to do that, baby girl."

"I hope you're aware that when I get this down, you're the first person I'm coming for," I warned him.

"And I'm terrified," he said earnestly.

"ROMAN!" I yelled in vexation. " _Help_!"

He snorted. "Okay, okay. Here." He placed his hands on my hips and twisted me slightly to the left before placing his hands on my shoulders.

"Ew, don't touch my skin, I'm all gross and sweaty," I protested.

"You wanna get this right, don't you?" he said rhetorically. "So quit being a whiny bitch and let me show you what to do."

It really didn't work. He angled my body, even massaged my shoulders to get me to loosen up. Nothing seemed to work. Every punch I threw at the punching bag was either weak as fuck, too stiff, uncoordinated or I just straight up missed. I was getting angrier and angrier with myself. After the tenth failure, I let out a noise that was a cross between a wail, a groan and a growl, causing Roman to start laughing at me.

I turned to him, hands on hips. "Why are you laughing? Why is your face making that noise? Stop it. Now."

"I'm sorry," he managed to get out. "But you just look so determined! And that noise! What the fuck was that!?" He collapsed again, his deep laughter booming out.

"Shut up!" I whined. "I'm gonna fucking nail this!"

"You're so cute when you're mad. You look like an angry, clumsy panda. Especially with your eyeliner smeared everywhere."

"Fuck you, Reigns!" Damn it, why did even his laugh have to sound attractive.

"Name a time and place," he said suggestively, wiggling his eyebrows.

"God, I still hate you sometimes."

For another twenty minutes, I tried the swing with Roman's tutelage. I could see he was trying as hard as he could to push me to a breakthrough, but it just wasn't happening. It really didn't help that Roman in workout gear was one of my favourite looks on him. Tight tank top, basketball shorts, hair pulled into a low tail, skin glimmering with perspiration. It was _extremely_ off-putting.

Eventually, I just had to admit defeat on that behalf.

I pointed to the opposite end of the gym. "That's it. Leave. I need to try this solo."

"What?" Roman sounded confused. "I thought you were about to get it then."

"And I'll probably be able to if you let me try it alone! Do you realise how distracting you are? Standing there all glistening and dripping like some kinda goddamn Samoan slushie."

"Should I be complimented by that?" he snorted.

I jabbed my finger again. "Take it as you will. Go on, get!"

He held his hands up in surrender. "Alright, alright. Shout if you need me, okay?"

"Mhm," I acknowledged, not even looking at him as I turned back to focus on the punching bag.

Naturally it was futile. Nothing I did was improving. I honest to God could not understand why I was so bad at this. Roman always made it look so…flawless. Sure, he'd been doing it in practice mostly rather than on TV, but still. If he could do it, why couldn't I?! It didn't make sense.

"Oh, fuck it!" I suddenly cried, throwing my arms in the air as tears sprung to my eyes.

"Hey, come on, you're not that bad," Roman said, dropping down from doing pushes on the dipping bars.

"I am!" I shouted, frustrated. "I'm fucking up a stupid fucking punch! How?! How can I possibly find a way to mess something up this simple?!"

"Sav, don't be so hard on yourself," he said, coming up behind me as tears started to trickle out of my eyes. Goddamn it, why was I an angry crier!? ARGH! "I can see what you're doing wrong this time. It's not your body, it's the angle of your arm. You need to bring it up higher, more bent upwards. Look." He gently placed his hand over my elbow and moved my arm up at a higher angle. "Now you just gotta bring it back quickly and let your fist snap forward." He moved my arm back and forth a few times to show me the way my arm should have been stretching out when I threw the punch. Then he let go. "Try it. I'll stay behind you in case you need another pointer."

"So, I'd take a run up, then go like this?" I questioned, and I jerked my arm backwards so quickly that Roman didn't have time to move out the way.

" _Shit_!" he cursed as my elbow connected with his eye socket, stumbling a few steps back with his hand over his eye.

"Oh Jesus!" I shrieked. "Roman, I- I didn't mean to, I didn't realize you were so close behind!"

"It's fine, Sav, I- ah, fuck, that stings!" he hissed, sitting down on one of the weight benches and taking his hand off his eye, blinking heavily. Even from where I stood, I saw the ring of purple blossoming along his socket bone. Oh fantastic, I'd given the man a black eye.

"Hold on!" I grabbed the first aid kit that was hanging on the wall and hurried back to Roman, sitting next to him on the weights bench and popping the kit open. "You've got a black eye forming and it's kinda cut a bit." I grabbed an antiseptic wipe, ripped it open and began dabbing at Roman's eye.

"You could have one fucking lethal elbow drop," he said, occasionally hissing as I cleaned his face. "You know that, right?"

"I really didn't mean to do that, I promise you," I muttered, concentrating on not accidentally swiping the wipe over his actual eyeball. "I might be a bitch, but I don't go out of my way to hurt my friends."

"You're not a bitch, Sav," Roman murmured, looking dead at me. I gave him a small smile and continued to dab at him, but as he continued to stare at me with his intense grey eyes, I faltered. I stopped wiping and screwed the antiseptic rag up in my fist, just looking at him, studying his face. "What are you doing?" he asked me.

"You're kind of...beautiful," I said quietly. "I don't know why I've never told you that."

"Sav-" he started to say, but I cut him off by leaning forward and gently pressing my lips to his. At first, he didn't even move, so I pulled back after maybe five seconds, my face flaming with shame.

"Woah, Sav, what the hell?" he said, looking a little dumb-struck.

"Roman, I- I-" I stuttered. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have done that! I- I'll just go. I'm sorry!" I scrambled to my feet and hurried towards the doors, not looking back as I began to cry and ignoring Roman as he called my name.

I was about six foot from the doors when a hand closed around my wrist and Roman forcefully said, "Sav, _stop_!"

"Roman, don't!" I said tearfully, turning round to face him. "I just said I know that I shouldn't have kissed you, I don't need you to tell me! I know we've fought so hard to actually get along and I just totally fucked that all up! Oh, who am I kidding, it was fucked anyway, right from the day I decided to develop all these weird, stupid feelings for you! I need- I need to just get out of here and clear my head! I'll see you-"

This time I was the one getting cut off as Roman seized my face in his hands and leaned down, kissing me so passionately that my breath completely caught in my throat. He removed his hands from my face, wrapped his arms tightly around my waist and pulled me flush against him. My arms snaked around his neck and my hands found their way to his hair, pulling it out of his ponytail and running my fingers through the deep black tresses.

His tongue swiped against my bottom lip, asking me for access, something that I happily gave him. The second his tongue touched mine, I let out an uncontrollable moan and Roman growled in response, sending vibrations through my body and down to my very core. I tightened my arms around his neck, sliding my hands down his tank top and feeling the hard defined muscle of his back. I pulled myself even closer to him - if that was possible - and felt his hands move from my hips and trail around to my ass and down to my thighs. He suddenly lifted me up as if I weighed nothing, allowing me to wrap my legs around his waist.

I don't know how long we spent attached to each others' mouths, but I do know that it was long enough that by the time we did pull away, I'd forgotten how to use my lungs and the two of us were panting heavily.

Roman leaned forward and rested his forehead against mine, his grey eyes locked on my hazel. "You know, Sav, maybe for once you could actually pull your head out of your ass and listen when someone tries to explain that they have feelings for you too."

"Maybe, but where's the fun in that?" I teased, rubbing my nose against his. Had that actually just fucking happened? Had I just spent fifteen-plus minutes making out with Roman Reigns in a hotel gym? Man, like things weren't fucking complicated between us already. Then what Roman had just said suddenly clicked in my head. "Wait...what?! You- you have feelings for me too?"

He nodded once, smiling at me. "Yeah, baby girl, I do."

"...Why?"

"Didn't think I'd need a pre-conceived list, Sav."

"You can't…you can't have feelings for me," I whispered, lowering my eyes.

"Why not?" he softly challenged.

I looked up at him, tears back in my eyes. "Because I'm no good. I'm damaged, I'm broken. I- I'm poison."

Using one arm to keep me supported, he brushed a few damp tendrils of hair that had escaped from my ponytail out of my face. "Not to me you're not."

"But you don't know, Roman," I persisted. "You don't know the damage I can cause."

"I don't care," he said firmly. "That was then and this is now, baby girl. I'm not one of the assholes you dated before."

"I just…I don't understand why you-" Roman cut me off again with another kiss that knocked the breath out of me. It sounds so clichéd, but I had never been kissed like this before. Dean and every other guy before that had only ever been in it for their own gain. But these were kisses that said 'things can go further, but only if you want.'

I did want.

"Roman," I gasped out between kisses. "Whose room-" Kiss. "-is closer to-" Kiss. "-the gym?"

I unwrapped my legs from around him and set myself back to my feet as he pulled back to look at me. "Sav, I don't want you to think I'm pressuring you into anything. If you don't want to do this…" He allowed himself to trail off.

"I do," I assured him. "I really, really do." I ran my hand down his chest then dared myself to go further, my hand hovering over the bulge in his shorts. I went up on my tiptoes and whispered in his ear, "I've wanted this since the day we met."

Roman reached behind me and gently pulled the tie out of my hair, letting it fall around my shoulders. He placed his hands on my hips and pulled me against him again. His hands cupped my ass as he murmured, "Then let's get out of here."

"I thought you'd never ask," I softly said as I kissed the crook of his neck…then pulled myself out of his grip, bolting for the doors. "If you want me, you gotta catch me!" I threw over my shoulder.

I heard his deep chuckle behind me. "Oh, you're gonna pay for this one, baby girl."

"Ooh, that's right." I smiled as I hid behind one of the weight racks. "Punish me."

"What happened to the shy Sav from a few minutes ago?" he demanded playfully, and by peeping around the side of the rack I saw him searching for me.

"She decided being the bad girl is _way_ better," I called back, trying to throw my voice.

"Do I get to see this bad side?" His voice was getting closer.

"You'll get to see a lot more than just the bad side if you find me, babe," I giggled. "You'll get to see me any way you want to. Naked…spread-eagle on the bed…on all fours…begging for you…"

"Don't start making promises, baby girl. I might just hold you to them." His voice was getting quieter again, so I chanced another look around the side of the rack. The gym looked…empty, no sign of Roman at all.

"These are promises I plan on keeping," I lightly teased, waiting for him to talk again so I could try to pin where he was. Instead…

"Tag, you're it." Roman's voice came from behind me and I squealed, especially when his arms went around me and he lifted me up over his shoulder, heading for the doors.

"You don't play fair!" I protested, pummeling at his back as we exited the gym.

"Neither do you," he simply replied. He raised his spare hand to a couple of alarmed-looking hotel dwellers still in the lobby. "She twisted her ankle, nothing to worry about." Smooth asshole. We reached the elevator soon enough, and the second we were hidden inside and slowly travelling up to the sixth floor - where my room was located - I found myself pressed up against the back wall. Roman had my arms held up above my head with one hand, the other hand resting on my hip.

"I didn't expect you to go all _Fifty Shades_ on me, Mr Reigns," I murmured.

"Mmm, well you don't exactly strike me as the submissive type, Miss Jordan," he drawled, and his lips found mine again. He pressed his pelvis into mine, his erection pressing against my lower stomach.

"Do you feel that?" he quietly asked, breaking the kiss for a few moments. "That's what you do to me every goddamn time I see you." Just the sound of his voice, deep and husky, had the ability to make me moan.

God, I didn't think I'd ever get tired of the feeling of his tongue against mine. Thank fuck I wasn't wearing a skirt or I'd be dripping all over the damn floor. I didn't even pay attention to the elevator pinging at our stop. Our mouths barely detached as we made our way down the hall and practically fell into my room.

I don't know what I did to please the karmic forces at work here, but as Roman laid me down, pinned my wrists to the mattress and kissed my neck, I promised to do it again. Hell, I'd send the forces a fucking gift basket at this rate.

"What do you want?" he asked. "Talk to me, Sav."

"You," I gasped. "Fuck, I want you." He pulled back and smiled lazily at me, giving me space to sit up. "This has to go." I grabbed hold of his tank top from the bottom and pulled it up over his head, marvelling at the sight of his chest.

"Then so does this." Roman didn't even bother removing my vest in the conventional way, instead opting to grab hold of the neckline with both hand and tearing straight down the middle, discarding the black material at the side of the bed.

This left me in my crappy pink sports bra; literally the most unsexy garment I owned. "You couldn't have waited until tomorrow to make your feelings known, Ro?" I joked, kicking off my sneakers.

"I think you'll find it was you who made the first move," he retorted, pushing me back down again. His hands found their way to my shorts. The cotton was peeled from my body and I was left in my turquoise lace thong. At least my panties were hot.

"Nuh-uh, I don't think so," I said wickedly, and catching him off guard I pulled him down beside me before rolling on top of him to straddle him. I grabbed hold of my bra from the bottom and pulled it over my head, tossing it to the far side of the room. Crouching down, I traced all around the tattoo covering his pec then began planting kisses down his chest, slowly moving backwards as I went.

Roman went up on his elbows, watching me. I placed a kiss on each side of the subtle V-shape leading into his shorts before taking hold of the waistband and pulling them off, smirking at the impressive tent pitched in his boxers. I soon shed him of those too, but I couldn't keep the look of alarm off my face when I saw the actual size of his cock. Like, I'd always thought Dean was big but holy shit. How the fuck was I supposed to fit _that_ inside me?! I'd been expecting a tight fit anyway but…fuck. Now I was intimidated.

I wasn't gonna let that get in the way of this. If anything, I was even more determined. I took hold of his dick and began to pump my hand up and down, slowly at first. A hiss fell from Roman's mouth. "Baby girl, fuck!"

"Shh, baby," I soothed. "Just enjoy this." I leaned forward and ran my tongue over the tip, tiny little kitten licks at first, lapping up the pre-cum already there. I got the response I wanted, because Roman's hand shot out and laced into my hair, though he was careful not to pull or push my head down.

Taking the encouragement, I ran my tongue over the underside of his dick a few times before I wrapped my lips around the head and lightly sucked, my hand working what my mouth didn't for the moment. Inch by inch, I took more of him into my mouth, my tongue swirling around him. It had been so long since I'd done this, I could only hope I hadn't lost my, er, skills.

Roman's hand was fisting tighter in my hair but I didn't care, I loved that I was having this effect on him. "Jesus Christ, Red," he panted as his tip hit the back of my throat, and I said a silent prayer for my lack of gag reflex, or we would have had a serious problem right now. "Fucking hell, that feels so good."

I began to bob my head, hollowing my cheeks as I did so and quietly humming to add extra stimulation. My other hand began dancing light lines over Roman's thigh, which tensed under my touch.

"Fuck. Sav, baby girl, fuck, I'm gonna cum," he gasped.

Good. I kept up my movements, bobbing my head even faster to the point where Roman was beginning to thrust into me, fucking my mouth. I moaned and that was it. He came apart, because of me. I swallowed every last drop of cum as Roman bellowed my name, pulling back with a soft _pop_ noise. I shot him a cheeky smile as I wiped the corners of my mouth with my thumb and forefinger and he sat up, pulling me into his lap and crashing his mouth to mine, tongues dancing together. He turned our bodies so he soon had me pressed into the bed, ravaging my neck with his tongue and lips.

Part of me was confused. No one had ever wanted to make sex about me before. It was always suck his dick, fuck me, see ya. Now…Roman was showing me the kind of attention I'd craved for years.

"Where have you been all my life," he murmured against my skin.

"Waiting for my Superman." I smiled, running my hand through his hair. He slowly began to work his mouth lower, ghosting over my lyrics tattoo on my collarbone and going lower more, latching his mouth onto my erect right nipple, lightly teasing it with his teeth before beginning to suck. His hand plucked at my left one, giving it the same attention for a minute or so before switching sides.

"Jesus Roman," I moaned. "Fuck, oh God, keep going."

"As you wish, baby," he said lasciviously. I let out a low whine as his mouth left my breast and began to travel lower…lower…until I realised-

"Not there," I pleaded when I felt his mouth getting closer to the right side of my lower stomach. Closer to my scar. The scar I hadn't covered up because I knew I'd sweat the makeup off.

Roman paused, looking up at me. "You don't need to be scared, Savvy," he said quietly. He pressed a lingering kiss to the scar. "You're beautiful. You're a fighter. This makes you who you are. I told you, you shouldn't be ashamed of this."

"But I am," I whispered. I closed my eyes when I felt tears close. I couldn't cry, it would ruin everything. The next thing I felt was hands around my ankles and I was suddenly pulled to the very edge of the bed, my eyes flying open. I felt Roman's teeth on the elastic of my thong and I watched through hooded eyes as he removed it using only his teeth, which almost had me cum on the spot. This man was trying to kill me.

"Forget all that now," he ordered. "Focus on me, how I'm making you feel." I didn't trust my voice not to break so all I did was nod and watch as Roman crouched down at the foot of the bed, sliding my legs over his shoulders. It was absurd but I found myself feeling extremely grateful that I'd had a Hollywood wax a few days ago. This would have been embarrassing otherwise.

Roman began to kiss a trail up my inner thigh, just reaching the apex when he switched over to the other side, paying extra attention to my garter tattoo. Damn, déjà vu much? I swear this had happened in a dream once. However, I really wasn't giving too many shits about dreams when one of Roman's fingers slid over the outside of my pussy.

"Gotta check if you're ready, baby girl," he said salaciously, grinning.

"I'm ready," I moaned. "Oh God, I'm ready. Taste me, I'm begging you!"

Another grin and Roman buried his face between my thighs, his tongue flicking against my clit torturously. I let out a cry instantly, my hands fisting in the bed sheets so tightly I nearly tore them. My heels dug into his back as he replaced his tongue with his teeth, lightly nibbling on my bundle of nerves and making my world spin off its fucking axis.

"Oh, fuuuuck," I drew out. "Roman- I- you- _Jesus_!" I was a mess already. "Don't stop! Right there! So good!" When he gently pushed two of his fingers inside me, I lost it. The howl I let out almost shattered the windows. Chuckling, he began to pump his fingers in and out, curling them whenever they were inside and catching my spot every single damn time. Combined with the way his teeth and tongue were toying with my clit, my eyes rolled back in my head and I could feel the delicious pulse of orgasm about to flood through my body. He soon pushed his tongue in above his fingers, curling it in zig-zag shapes up and down.

"Ro!" I whined, my hands flying to his hair and tugging on reflex. He let out a growl, slipping his hands under my ass and pulling me closer to his face, and it sparked every nerve-ending in my body. "Oh my God…" Samoan Superman liked having his hair pulled. I'd remember that one for future reference. "I'm close…so close…"

"Let go for me, Sav," he coaxed, pulling back while his fingers moved in and out of me like pistons. At the last second he plunged them in, curled them in a 'come here' gesture and I fell apart.

"ROMAN!" I screamed as he covered my entire pussy with his mouth as my essence flooded out of me, capturing every drop. He didn't move until my body finally stilled before moving up to capture my mouth in a kiss that made my toes curl.

"Do you want to do this?" he asked, resting his forehead against mine and looking deep into my eyes.

I nodded emphatically. "More than anything. Just…be careful with me. It's been a while." Almost four years, but who was counting? I kissed him once more, slow and gentle. "I trust you."

"Do you have anything?" Oh yeah. Condoms. Those were things.

I shook my head. "Don't worry. I've been on birth control for years." That was a mistake I'd never fucking be making again.

He nodded once. I planted my feet on the comforter, knees bent and legs open. Lacing our fingers together, Roman settled between my legs and began to slowly push through my folds, both of us groaning at the friction. There was a little bit of pain, more burning than anything, as he inched in. God, it really had been a while. Once he was fully sheathed, he stayed still for a moment to allow my walls to accommodate to his size.

"You okay?" he checked, concerned.

"Yeah, you feel- oh God, you feel amazing."

"So do you," he groaned, pulling out and thrusting straight back in. "Fuck, so fucking tight, baby girl." Every thrust he made picked up speed slightly, brushing my sweet spot every damn time, and soon I was picking my hips up to meet him thrust for thrust. Pulling out again, Roman grabbed hold of my ankles and pushed my legs up and out so I was akin to doing the splits, sliding straight back in and pumping rapidly.

"I love how fucking flexible you are," he moaned.

"This is nothing," I gasped. "Come on, baby, take me how you want." I moved my leg up slightly to show him what I meant, and he soon realised what to do, pushing my leg back so my foot ended up above my head as he plowed in and out. Another orgasm was building rapidly but I tried to hold it down; I didn't want this to end yet.

Roman leaned forward and sank his teeth into the crook of my neck, and in that moment I suddenly remembered all our arguments, all the names we'd called each other, the slaps, the bitching, and I felt rage. White hot rage. In retaliation to the bite, I dug my nails deep into the flesh of his back and raked downwards, hard enough that I knew I would have broken the skin. I was leaving my mark; he was _mine_.

He growled and our bodies rolled over so that I was on top, sitting astride him. "Fucking ride me, Sav," he demanded, gripping hold of my hips. Throwing my head back, I started rising myself up and down, not even believing how deep this position made him go. I'd never felt so full in my life. He watched me going up and down on his dick, his eyes almost black with lust. "So fucking beautiful, baby girl."

I was moaning like a porn star, rolling my hips every time I lowered myself down and bouncing on and off his cock. The sound of flesh smacking flesh echoed through the room and I knew I wouldn't be able to hold on much longer. I felt sorry for whoever was in the rooms next to this one because neither of us were bothering to keep quiet.

"Fuck, Sav, tell me you're close, sweetheart," Roman grunted, his fingers digging into the flesh at my hips. He moved his hands up my torso until he cupped my breasts, kneading them.

"So close, baby," I keened. "Cum with me, Roman!" I bounced faster and he thrust upwards to meet me - once, twice, three times - when the coil inside me snapped and white exploded in front of my eyes. I leaned down and gripped hold of Roman's shoulders as my orgasm wracked my body, my nails digging into him.

"SAV!" he roared, emptying himself inside me. He didn't stop thrusting until I felt him go soft inside me. I collapsed on top of him in a sweaty, panting mess, my head resting on his chest. Only when my heart rate had slowed and both our breathing returned to normal did I roll off him, groaning at the empty feeling inside me.

I spooned against his side, my leg draped over his and my head resting on his outstretched arm. "That was…wow," I said breathlessly.

"Yeah, wow," Roman repeated, and the two of us laughed softly. He kissed my temple. "You're amazing, you know that?"

"I try," I said with a smile, running my hand over his smooth chest, cuddling into him. I took a deep breath, then dared myself to say, "What happens now?"

I looked up at him and he bent his head down to place a kiss on my lips. "We'll talk about it in the morning," he replied. "It's late, neither of us will last the conversation. Get some sleep, baby girl." To reiterate his point, he pulled the covers over the two of us and held me closer to him, flicking off the lights with the switch by the bed. I didn't argue with him, closing my eyes and deciding that this was indeed a conversation for tomorrow. I fell asleep in Roman's arms, and that was the first night I fell asleep really feeling like something in my life had gone right for once. Because it had. It truly had.

Until I woke up the next morning. Something was…off. I rolled over, slowly opening my eyes and reaching out for Roman. Only to find that the bed was empty.

* * *

 **A/N- This is not a drill, people! It's really happening! Soooo, please review! I had a lot of feedback on the last chapter, and I'd love that again, if not more! I know this chapter was a little shorter than the last few but come on, they can't all be 20+ pages long. I'm hoping to update this quickly again, so see you all next time! Xx Gee xX**

 _ **Songs for Chapter Fifteen:**_

 **Iggy Azalea ft. Jennifer Hudson - Trouble  
** **Nickelback - What Are You Waiting For  
** **Rita Ora - Poison**


	16. Daddy's Little Girl

**A/N - Wow guys, thank you SO MUCH for the positive feedback on chapter 15! I cannot describe how happy I was that you all enjoyed Sav and Roman finally pulling their heads out of their asses and admitting their feelings! I know, I know, I left you all on a slight cliffhanger, so without further ado, here's chapter 16! Thank you most especially to Wrestlechic1, DancingGirl0, angelsdee327, Shield316 and DenyingTheTruth for reviewing!**

 _ **EDIT: Hey guys, sorry for the confusion but on re-reading this chapter, there were a few bits I really wasn't happy with, so I've gone back and tweaked them a little. I also noticed that for some fucked up reason, a whole paragraph was missed out towards the end of the chapter. Again, sorry for updating this chapter a second time, thanks for taking the time to read this! You're all the best!**_

* * *

 **Chapter Sixteen - Daddy's Little Girl**

 _ **SavvyAsHellWWE: Funny how the tables turn. You walked out on me. Time for me to show you the same courtesy.  
**_ _ **Tweeted 11/18/2013 22.34PM**_

I didn't know why I felt so surprised to be honest. It always went this way. The same old shit about how 'beautiful' I was, how amazing the sex was and the classic 'where have you been all my life?' God, I was such an idiot. I'd let Roman play me like a fucking video game and I'd fallen for it - and him - hook, line and sinker. How could I have been so fucking stupid?

Well, time to start planning my resignation letter. Let's be realistic here, there was no way I'd be able to stay a part of The Shield after this. I'd never be able to look Roman in the eye again, let alone work as a cohesive unit with him. Just the idea of having to see him again was already making my stomach churn.

I pulled the white covers up around me and just…laid there, staring at the ceiling. I would not cry. I wouldn't. I had no reason to. I'd had sex with Roman. I'd got it out of my system. Maybe now I'd stop acting like a horny teenager and would be able to get over the feelings I'd acquired along the way.

However, I officially now had no intention of leaving this bed until I absolutely had to. I was upset, I was angry and…truth be told, my thighs and between my legs ached a lot. I honestly wondered if they'd support my weight. I could definitely feel beard burn there.

I'd had a lot of one night stands in my time - something I was no longer proud of - but I'd never woken up the next day feeling this used. I'd trusted Roman. I'd looked him in the eye and _told_ him I trusted him. He'd told me he had feelings for me. He'd said all the right things to get me to lower my guard, and now the harsh reality hit that he'd only said all that shit to get into my panties. The worst thing of all was that I'd genuinely believed he was different to the others.

I was abruptly pulled out of my depressive monologue by the sound of the toilet in the bathroom adjacent to the bedroom flushing. Wait…what? I leaned up on my elbows and stared as the door across from the bed opened, and out stepped Roman, shirtless with one of the white hotel towels wrapped around his waist, hair down, looking like even more of an Adonis than usual.

"Hey you," he said with a smile.

"You're still here." I didn't try to keep the surprise out of my voice as I sat up, keeping the covers around my body.

"Of course I am." He sounded equally as surprised that I'd said that. "I didn't wanna wake you up but I needed to take a shower. Why would you think I was gone?"

"I- you- don't worry, it doesn't matter." Now I felt even stupider for letting my paranoia get the better of me. "What time is it?"

"Just gone eleven. You slept like a rock."

"Wow, I guess you really wore me out, huh?" A somewhat awkward silence followed. We needed to address the elephant in the room but were unsure who should make the first move.

In the end, it was Roman who broke first. He sat down at the end of the bed, and I instinctively drew the sheets tighter around my naked body. "So," he began delicately. "We, er...we just had sex."

I had to bite my tongue to refrain from bursting into song; something told me that The Lonely Island was _not_ appropriate here. "We did."

"And last night you asked me what happens now."

I swallowed heavily. "…I did."

He shifted himself up the bed so he was sitting directly in front of me, reaching out to tuck a few strands of my hair behind my ear. "What do you want to happen?"

I lowered my eyes, picking at a hangnail on my thumb. "I don't know," I whispered.

"Yes you do," he gently coaxed. "Talk to me, baby girl, tell me. You don't have to keep hiding your feelings, especially not from me."

I sighed heavily. "I don't know how to do this. I don't know how to be…open and comfortable with someone I…like."

"What did you tell me last night? You've got feelings for me. I've got feelings for you. We don't have to make this difficult, Savvy."

"Okay. Fine, here's the truth. I like you. I like you so fucking much, Roman, and it terrifies me. When I woke up in an empty bed, I thought you'd done what every other man in my life has done and walked out on me. I need…I need to see this will work before…before I can give my all to you like you deserve."

"Then tell me what I can do."

"We test this. Us, a relationship," I suggested softly. "Let's not tell anyone for a few weeks. We don't need the added pressure of other people scrutinizing us. We can see if we work out and then we tell people."

He placed his hand on my knee through the sheet, rubbing comforting circles with his thumb. "If that's what you want, then we'll do it. We'll take this at _your_ pace, baby girl. As long as you're mine, I don't care how we do it."

I placed my hand over his, giving him a small smile. "Thank you." The smile dropped just as quickly as it appeared.

He frowned. "What's wrong?"

"I don't want you to hurt me," I whispered.

His hand cupped my chin and he kissed me chastely for a few seconds before resting his forehead on mine. "I never will. You'll be my everything, Savannah Rose Jordan."

I ran my hands through his hair then laced them together behind his neck. "So…I guess this makes it official. You're my boyfriend." The word was so alien on my lips. I suddenly laughed. "God, that sounded so juvenile."

He laughed too, kissing me again. "Yeah it did, but I'll take it, girlfriend."

"You are such an ass," I giggled, squealing when he suddenly lunged at me, wrapping his arms around my waist and laid us down, pressing kisses all over my neck. If this was what it was gonna be like, maybe being in a relationship wouldn't be so bad after all.

After a heavy making out session, Roman disappeared back into the bathroom not too long later and I finally dragged my lazy ass out of bed, wrapping my naked self in a hotel robe, grabbing a cigarette and my lighter from my handbag and heading out to the balcony, looking out at the city. Nashville was already bustling, cars beeping, people around.

Blowing smoke out through my nose , I felt weirdly reminiscent. I hadn't been in this part of the country in…years, aside from one show last month. I'd conveniently contracted a violent case of food poisoning the two weeks WWE was in Texas back in July. Deep down, I knew I was ready to finally go back to my home state. However, the longer I could draw it out, I would. Yes, I missed my foster parents desperately after not physically seeing them since I signed with WWE, but it just wasn't enough to take me back to Texas willingly. I was ready, I just didn't want to. Not yet…please not yet…

"I thought you were giving that up." My boyfriend's (I wouldn't tire of calling him that for a while) voice behind me made my jump.

I turned around to face him, my cigarette still between my lips. I removed it and tapped some excess ash from the tip. "I know I said I would, and I will, but I can't just quit cold turkey."

"Why not?" Roman challenged, stepping onto the balcony and standing next to me, leaning on the railing. He was back in his workout gear from last night, having no other clothes to change into since we were in my room.

"Because this is a habit I've had since I was sixteen," I answered, taking another drag. "It's not exactly gonna be easy. I'm cutting down, that should be enough."

"Hmm. I guess." Roman sounded doubtful but he didn't push it. But because I knew he really wasn't fond of smoking, I respected him and flicked my cigarette over the edge of the balcony. His arm snaked around my waist and he pulled me against his side. I wrapped my arm around his waist and leaned my head on his chest, the two of us just staring out over the city.

"So I got a text from Carrano yesterday," I said.

"Oh yeah? Good or bad?"

"Good, I think. Apparently I've got a meet and greet after Raw tonight," I answered. "Feel like joining me? I assume it's a kid and his or her parent so can you imagine their face when half of The Shield walk in?"

Roman kissed the top of my head, giving me a squeeze. "I'd love to, baby girl. Aw, look at you, thinking about the kids."

"Excuse you, I love kids!" I said defensively. "Especially little chubby ones with big eyes and curly hair. Oh my God, adorable."

"Never had you pegged as a kid person, babe," he said.

I shrugged. "It's a new thing. Up until like, six months ago I never looked twice at babies. Now…" I cut myself off. We'd been together a grand total of one hour. It was way, _way_ too early to tell him I'd been broody for the better part of my time on the roster. No, it was nothing to do with him directly but what if he thought it was? I'd scare him off before we'd even got through twenty-four hours as a couple. "It must be to do with being surrounded by children all the time at events and whatever," I smoothly covered.

"Right," he said absentmindedly, his hand moving to splay on the small of my back. "Listen, I'm gonna head to my room and change clothes. Dean texted me a little while ago asking when we were gonna meet him and Seth in his room, said he'd messaged you too. If you don't want anyone to know we're together yet, then we gotta go separately."

"Don't go yet," I pleaded, batting my lashes up at him. "I'm sure they can wait a little while longer."

He bent down to kiss me for a few seconds but soon pulled back, grinning. "Hey, I'd love to spend the rest of the day with you and only you, but we've got shit to do today."

"But Ro-" I whined, and he placed a finger over my lips to shut me up.

"No Sav. Sorry baby, I'm sticking to this one." He kissed me on the cheek and walked back inside my room, heading for the door. "I'll see you in a little while," he said over his shoulder.

Shit, time for drastic measures. "Oh Roman?" I called innocently, following him in and leaning on the balcony door frame. He turned back with a brow arched in question and, without a word, I opened my robe and silently dropped it to the floor, grinning wickedly.

The biggest smirk spread across his face. "So that's how you wanna play." He crossed the room in four strides and lifted me up, my legs wrapping around his waist before he carried me over to the bed and threw me down onto the mattress.

I let out a breathy gasp as Roman slowly trailed his hand down my torso. Oh yeah. I could definitely get used to being a girlfriend again.

* * *

I let him leave eventually, though we were now somewhat behind schedule. Apparently a 'quick session' with Roman lasted at least half an hour. Hey, I wasn't complaining. I'd had more sex in the last twelve hours than I had in the last three and a bit years and to be honest, I was completely spent. I needed some recuperation time. After I showered, I fired off a quick text to Talent Relations to tell them of the addition to my meet and greet and set to getting ready.

"I think about you all the time, you're so addictive. Don't you know what I can do to make you feel all right?" I sang Avril Lavigne's _Girlfriend_ as I flitted around the room getting dressed, a newfound spring in my step. "Don't pretend, I think you know, I'm damn precious! And, hell yeah, I'm the motherfuckin' princess! I can tell you like me too, and you know I'm riiiight."

I'd never felt this happy, not in years, not through the entire two years I was with Dean. I knew it was wrong to compare them but I couldn't help it. Roman was just…better. Oh God, that sounded awful. But it was true. No, stop. Dean had changed. He was a good guy now. Just because things had never worked out for us in the past didn't make him a bad person in the present. Okay yeah, he did have a tendency to still bring back ring rats every other night, even with the possibility of Renee. Old habits die hard, I guessed.

After finishing dressing in ripped jeans, a black Ouija-style vest that read _Hail Satan and Drink Coffee_ and a grey varsity jacket (aptly emblazoned with an R on the breast), I was just lacing up my Nintendo-print hi-top Vans when my phone started to ping with the FaceTime tone. It was Dean himself.

"I am very surprised you know how to use FaceTime, Ambrose," I said dryly once I accepted the call.

"You're funny, Jordan. Real fuckin' funny," he retorted, rolling his eyes.

"You said it, not me," I said smugly. "What do you want?"

"Wait, what the fuck is that on your neck?" He peered at me through the screen.

"What are you-" I looked at myself in the little box in the corner of the screen. There, on the crook of my neck about an inch long, was a purple splodge where Roman had bitten me last night. _Roman Reigns, you fucking moron_! I silently cursed, quickly brushing my hair over the hickey. "I accidentally whacked myself in the neck with the pulley handle last night," I sleekly lied. "Hurt like a bitch too, I almost cried."

"God, you've got soft since WWE signed you," he scoffed, shaking his head. "What happened to the chick who tried to finish a match with a shard of glass stuck an inch into her leg?"

"Well for starters, I grew up," I shot back. "Second of all, I realised there's more to life than deathmatches. Third…in that instance, I was delirious with blood loss and didn't feel it. That no longer appeals to me, funnily enough."

"2009 you would be disappointed."

"2009 me doesn't fucking exist anymore. Look, seriously, what do you want? I'm in the middle of getting dressed to meet you bastards."

"That's why I'm calling, bitch. We're in Sethie boy's room and we've been here for the last half hour. Hurry the fuck up."

"Who is this 'we' of which you speak?"

"Me and Reigns, Jordie, keep up. Jesus, he wear you out that much last night?"

"What?!"

"Your training. Were you really that shit?"

"Er…yeah. We didn't get up to our rooms till like midnight. So don't bring it up or I'll snap your kneecaps."

"Noted," he said with a cocky smirk. "But I'm being serious, hurry the fuck up. We had to order pizza by ourselves and now you owe Seth thirty bucks."

"How the fuck did you order thirty dollars worth of food!?"

"Roman wanted brownies and I wanted garlic bread."

"You fat fuckers! Alright, give me ten minutes. You're in two-five-nine, yeah?"

"Your words hurt me, Rosie. See you in ten. And just so you know, we're starting the DVD without you."

"Thanks for the support, asshole."

* * *

"I fail to see how you couldn't have waited a few more minutes," I grumbled when I walked into Dean's suite. The three of them were sitting of the sofa, watching the TV, none of them really acknowledging me. I didn't pay much attention to what movie they'd chosen, focusing on untying my Vans, until I heard my own voice coming out of the TV, though I had a much heavier Texan accent.

" _You think I give three flyin' shits about what people think about me? I'm the best thing that's ever happened to this company, and if people can't wake up and realize that, how is it my fuckin' problem? I don't have time for people who don't believe in me. I'm here to prove a fuckin' point. There aren't a lot of girls in this company, so it ain't hard to be the best. But that doesn't mean I'll just sit back and let these other bitches think they have a chance against me. I am better than_ _everyone_ _here, and that includes those steroid-induced jerk-offs in the locker rooms too."_

I sharply turned my head to look at the screen. A twenty-year-old me smirked back. I was dressed in a black PVC crop top that basically looked like I had construction tape wrapped around my boobs, tiny little black leather shorts that sat about two centimetres above the bottom of my ass cheeks and black knee-high combat boots. My red hair was wild and curled around my head, and I was sucking on a lollipop between my cherry-red lips. In my other hand I held a baseball bat.

" _They think they can control me and make me get down on my knees for them- pun intended._ _No one_ _controls me. Okay, not Drake Younger, not Nick Gage, and definitely not Jon Moxley. He tried his hardest though, bless him. You hear that, Mox? You wanna break up with me, that's fine. Just fuckin' fine. But guess what? I'm still not your little bitch. Trust me, it takes a lot more than that to make me bend over for you...though that has always been one of your stronger points. I don't need you to make me relevant, honey. I've been here eight months and I'm already doin' that all by myself. So if anyone still needs me to fuckin' prove why I'm the baddest bitch this company's ever seen, then hit me up. I ain't one to say no to any of y'all._ _"_

I stuck my middle finger up at the camera and the picture faded to black before my old Indy entrance music kicked in and the picture changed over to me walking out to the ring. " _The following match is set for one fall and is a 'Fans Choose The Weapons' match! Introducing first, making her way to the ring, from Dallas, Texas: Savannah Rose!_ "

"What the _fuck_ are you watching?!" I demanded, folding my arms.

"Did you know CZW brought out a DVD about you?" Dean asked nonchalantly, pausing the TV.

"I did. I just didn't realise you of all people owned a copy," I said, my voice clipped.

"Oh. Well, surprise," he said, tossing the case at me. I inspected it with a frown. Where the fuck had Dean dug this up from? The DVD was entitled _Savannah: Every Rose Has Its Thorns_ and was released shortly after I left CZW for WWE. The cover was a background of withered roses with barbed wire wrapped around then a much younger me leaning on my elbow, clad in my old very revealing ring gear.

"Why do you have this?" I asked heavily, placing the DVD on the table.

"Er…it was gonna be your Christmas present," Dean admitted. "But after our little conversation earlier I thought it'd be a good idea to remind you of the old, badass Rosie from wrestling past."

"And Ro and I have always told you that we wanna see some of your independent work," Seth chipped in.

"Oh well, if it's a three against one decision," I said sarcastically, walking over to where Seth and Roman were sitting.

"Glad you see it from our point of view," Dean said smugly, sitting down in that spot next to Roman and pressing play.

"Push yourself hard last night, Sav?" Seth asked me.

"I guess so, but no harder than I usually do," I replied with a frown. "Why?"

"You're walking kinda…funny," he said.

My eyes widened, but I managed to cover up quickly. "Leg curls. Strained the muscles in my thighs," I said, sitting down in the armchair. I wished I could have sat next to Roman, but it just would have been too obvious.

We ended up ploughing through three hours of the four hour collection. The matches themselves, I really enjoyed rewatching from a third person perspective. The different stipulations, the bloodshed, the weapons, the grittiness…this was the real me. I was a wrestler, not some fluffy PG cookie-cutter Diva.

It was reliving the promos that I didn't like. I said and did some absolutely disgusting things. I flew my little slut flag with pride back then. I was either talking about sex, who I'd had sex with, who I wanted to have sex with, or Dean and I's…escapades in the bedroom. By the time _that_ segment rolled around, even Ambrose himself looked awkward.

Me? My face was flaming red with shame. Here I was, watching my former self parade around in next to nothing saying the most disgusting things, sitting with my current secret boyfriend, my ex-boyfriend and my best friend. 'Uncomfortable' didn't even cover how I felt.

" _Come on, Nick, fuck him up!"_ I screamed onscreen. The current match playing was a tag match; myself and Nick Gage against Dean and some nameless whore he'd found backstage after one of our many breakups. I'd never worked out why it had been included on the DVD; it was nothing remarkable and was certainly nowhere near my best ring work. I was practically playing cheerleader, cheering and yelling every time Nick got a hit in. As Nick hit Dean with his finishing chokeslam backbreaker, the Chokebreaker, and covered him for the three, I was doing a goddamn dance on the apron.

" _The winners of this match, Savannah Rose and Nick Fuckin' Gage!_ "

" _Get your fucking hands off my girl, Gage!_ " Dean snarled as Nick picked me up bridal style while I giggled.

" _Ain't your girl anymore, Moxley! Maybe I'll make her mine instead,_ " Nick taunted.

" _Mmm, he's definitely twice the man you'll ever be, Moxxy!_ " I laughed bitchily before pulling Nick's head down and smashing his lips against mine. The whole thing was abruptly cut short when Dean threw himself at Nick - knocking me out of his arms - and proceeded to start beating the shit out of Gage, rolling out of the ring to the floor. Oh, now I knew why this had been included; I'd caused one of the biggest backstage fights CZW had ever seen that night.

I couldn't deal with this any longer. I didn't need to be reminded of how easily I'd played with people's feelings in those days, of how little I'd cared. That wasn't me anymore. I didn't want to remember. I refused to remember.

"I need some air," I said abruptly, standing up and practically bolting from the room. And by 'practically bolted' I mean I didn't stop running until I'd flown down all six flights of stairs and got to the lobby, where I hid myself around a pillar to the side of the lobby, out of sight. I was breathing heavily, trying to keep myself calm. I stood there for about ten minutes, not moving, eyes closed. _Keep calm. Keep calm, keep calm, keep calm…_

"You wanna talk about what just happened?"

I opened my eyes with a slight gasp to see Roman standing in front of me, leaning against the pillar opposite. I immediately crossed over to him and allowed him to wrap his arms around me as I buried my face in his chest. "No I don't."

"Baby girl, you're shaking. Talk to me. You don't talk, I can't help."

"Why'd you follow me?"

"I'm your boyfriend. You're upset. I wasn't gonna leave you. When you didn't come back I told the guys I was gonna look for you. Don't worry, I didn't give anything away. Now, why don't you tell me what's wrong?"

"I don't- I just- I can't."

He brushed a kiss over the top of my head. "You can. I'm right here."

"I never wanted you to see that side of me," I whispered, clinging to him like a velcro monkey. "I don't want to remember that the girl on that DVD was me. I was awful in CZW. I was a whore, I didn't care who I hurt, I fucked anything that walked…I…I…please, I know how bad it looks but you need to understand I was in such a bad place mentally in those days. I regret almost everything I did and all I can ask is you don't judge me from what you've just seen. I'm not that girl anymore, I'd never do anything like that to you, I like you so much, you mean the world to me. Please…just, please don't think differently of me."

"Oh, baby girl." Roman lifted me up and I wrapped my legs around his waist, resting my head on his shoulder with my eyes squeezed shut. At this moment in time I didn't care about our relationship being a secret, or about people seeing us; I needed to be as close to him as I could be.

He held me tightly, one arm supporting me and the other hand stroking my hair in comfort. Though I wasn't crying, I kept making odd little dry sobbing sounds, like I was going to cry but didn't have any tears. "I don't deserve you," I mumbled.

"Hey. That's not true." I moved my head to look at him. "Do you want to know what I see when I look at you?"

"A slut," I whispered.

Roman shook his head. "No. When I look at you, Sav, I see a girl who is terrified of how the world sees her. You spent all those years hurting so you tried covering it up by acting like the girl in that DVD. But I know that's not the real you. The Sav I fell for cares about her family. She's a good person. She loves her fans, her dog, her brothers and her career. Most importantly, she went through all of that shit and came out the other side. Baby girl, I'm proud to call you my girlfriend."

"I've been your girlfriend for like six hours."

"So what? I've felt this way about you a lot longer than six hours. Let me care about you. Don't push me away."

"I'm trying. I'm really trying, I just don't know how to do this. Please give me time. One day I'll open up to you fully, I swear I will, but please. I need time."

"I told you we're taking this at your pace and I meant it," Roman said gently. "You'll let it all out when you're ready, and I'm happy to wait."

I pressed a soft kiss to his lips. "Thank you. You're the best, you know that?"

"I've been told." He shot me a crooked smile, lowering me back to my feet. "You coming back up?"

I shook my head. "I don't think so. Can you tell Seth and Dean that I'm getting ready to leave for the arena? We need to go soon, it's getting late."

"Sure. Do you want us to meet you down here in a half hour? I'll drive."

"That sounds good to me. I'm not really up to driving right now," I sighed. "I'm seriously hoping for an easy night tonight. I don't know if I can be bothered with any aggro."

* * *

" _Musical chairs_?" I spat out. "Are you fucking kidding me?!"

"I wish I was," sighed Kaitlyn. "It's part of this stupid Raw Goes Country shit. This is our segment. The only Diva getting a match tonight is AJ and her 'mystery opponent.'"

"Urgh, and you only know that little bitch is gonna be smug as fuck about that," I said bitterly. "This is actually humiliating. Next you'll be telling me that we've gotta dress up." Kaitlyn stayed awkwardly quiet. "Oh, _fuck_ no."

"Yup," she said blandly. "I've just seen my outfit and it's not too bad, like I wear that kinda stuff on a day to day basis but some of the other girls' outfits are _such_ a cliche."

"Do you feel as offended as I do?" I asked. "Being my fellow country girl. Like, sure, I used to dress like a cute lil' cowgirl when I was like, aged ten to fifteen. So seriously. This is offensive."

Kaitlyn shrugged. "We're not champion. We just gotta roll with it. Listen, I gotta go find Foxy but I'll catch up with you later." She patted me on the shoulder and headed off.

"Fuck my life," I muttered to myself. When I said I wanted an easy night, this is so not what I meant. Watching that DVD earlier really hadn't helped because now I had a case of nostalgia blues. Give me my barbed wire matches back.

But no. It looked like my only respectable moment on TV today would be when I accompanied the boys to their match, whenever that was or whoever that would be against. I wandered around aimlessly until I eventually found the wardrobe department. What abomination was I about to be presented with?

"Savannah. Honey, how are you?" Sandra greeted me as I walked up.

"I'm doing pretty good, Sandra, thanks," I said, forcing a smile. "Missed seeing your face."

"Well when you've got the same gear every week, I guess you've got no reason to be visiting me," she replied with a sniff. She handed me a plastic bag. "Don't worry, sweetheart, I took your rep into account. Didn't want you to look any less of a badass."

Curious, I placed the bag on a table and pulled it open. "Woah! Sandra, you've outdone yourself. I gotta admit, I was expecting something kinda…generic, but this is awesome!" Sandra had gotten hold of a black shirt that knotted above the navel, black denim shorts with tassels on the sides, black cowboy boots and a black cowboy hat. My Shield-ness was still there but I still fit in with tonight's theme and honestly…I loved it. If only I was wrestling in it.

"I'll take that as a compliment," Sandra said dryly. She then handed me a second bag. "This is your valet gear if you need it. No doubt your boys will be messin' someone up."

"Oh, that's basically guaranteed," I said proudly, giving her a one armed hug. "Thanks for this, Sandra, you're the man!" And with that, I turned on my heel and skipped away. But I didn't go to the Shield dressing room. Instead, I took a little detour to the Ladies bathroom to get changed. I had a very large feeling I was about to get laughed at by three grown-ass men and I'd rather hold that off as long as possible.

I changed quickly, and I did have to admit, I looked pretty damn good. The clothes fit me like a second skin, showing off my curves - my push-up bra giving me a very impressive cleavage - and my tattoos to perfection. I looked in the full-length mirror as I arranged my hair into a side braid and sighed. It felt so…strange being dressed like this, dressing the way I did as a pre-teen back in Dallas. Back before everything went to shit. Back when Lorelei was alive, when Thomas loved me. Back when I was young, sweet and innocent with no idea how cruel the world could be.

Once happy with how the braid looked, I placed the cowboy hat on my head and bent down to grab my stage makeup from my tote. But as I rummaged around in the bag, last night came back to me. How Roman hadn't found it repulsive or disgusting. He never had done, right from the first time he saw it and we weren't even really friends then. Maybe no one else would care about it either.

Then again, I'd always sworn I'd never let anyone change how ugly I thought it was. Oh, who the fuck was I kidding? I'd also sworn I'd never get into another relationship with a co-worker/trust someone/open up to someone and I'd broken all those personal vows in the space of twenty-four hours since Roman and I decided to be together. My mouth set in a firm line, I found the bottle, unscrewed the lid and proceeded to squeeze every last drop of foundation into the toilet until I was left with nothing but a wrinkled plastic tube which I practically slam-dunked into the trash can in the corner.

"I'm not ashamed anymore," I said aloud. Maybe if I kept repeating it then I'd start to believe it. And with a firm nod at myself in the mirror, I exited the bathroom in search of the boys. It didn't take all that long to find them; with a half hour till we went live, they were in Catering getting a pre-show snack. All three of their mouths partially dropped open when they saw me; Roman almost dropped his fudge cake on Seth's leg.

"Yee-motherfuckin'-ha," Dean snorted.

"I know, I know," I said with an eye roll, tightening up the loosening knot of my shirt. "I swear, if any of you laugh then I'll happily disembowel you and strangle you with your own intestines."

"And you wonder why you're single," Seth joked. "Such threatening behaviour."

 _Ha-di-ha. Jokes on you, Two-Face,_ I thought smugly. Out loud, all I said was, "Any dude I end up with needs to realise that I'm liable to threaten him at least twice a day." Subtle warning to Roman there.

"If it's any consolation, you're looking damn hot," Dean said, eyebrow raised suggestively.

"Super inappropriate, Dean," I said, quickly shutting him down because I had no idea how Roman would react to a comment like that. I didn't know if he had a jealous side like Dean had back in the day.

My eyes flickered to him just to check. He looked impassive as always. "What's this for, anyway?"

"It's Raw Goes Country, remember?" I reminded. I held out my arms. "This is my gear for the first half. We're playing a rousing game of musical fucking chairs."

"...You're joking, right?" said Dean.

"Nope. I feel like my entire culture is being mocked," I complained, tightening the knot for a second time. This was gonna start getting irritating.

"All I'm gonna say is good luck," said Seth, patting me on the shoulder. "We've got some Authority business to take care of."

"Yeah, yeah. I'm gonna go back to Wardrobe and get them to put a stitch in this freaking knot," I dismissed, and the three of them headed out of Catering.

"Five minutes. Our locker room. I'll tell the guys I've gotta go to the bathroom," Roman murmured as he walked past, and I smirked. Desired effect achieved. But first I really did need to get a stitch put in my top.

Five minutes later I slowly pushed open the door to the Shield locker room, making sure my cowboy boots clicked loudly. "Why, hello? Anyone in here? Roman? I sure hope you weren't just messin' with lil' ol' me," I softly called out, heavily exaggerating my Texan drawl.

Roman was sitting down on the bench, and his lips curled into a lazy smile when I walked in and closed the door behind me. He pushed himself to his feet as I slowly walked over to him, my hands knotted behind my back and giving me that sweet and innocent look.

"You wanted to see me?" I said sweetly, keeping with the heavy accent and cocking my head to the side.

"Do you have any idea how fucking hot you look right now?" Roman murmured, placing his hands on my hips and pulling me closer.

"We're at work," I whispered, sliding my hands under his protective vest and the tank top he wore underneath as I dropped the act, desire overtaking me.

"I don't care," he replied, lowering his head to my neck and placing a kiss there.

"We shouldn't do this here…" I tried to argue, but all my resolve went out the window when his teeth grazed over my pulse point, making me shiver.

"I don't care," he repeated, moving up to capture my lips in a soul-searing kiss.

"You're so bad," I giggled against his mouth, moving my hands from under his vest to wrap my arms around his neck.

"Just wanna make my girl feel good," he retorted. "Is that such a crime?"

"It is when we're supposed to be keeping us secret," I replied huskily, but my actions contradicted my words completely as I shoved Roman back down so he was sitting back on the bench. I straddled his lap and ran my hands through his hair, loving how soft it was, before kissing him again, our tongues entwining.

"You knew this was gonna happen, didn't you?" he murmured as his hands moved to cup my breasts through my shirt.

"I had a pretty good idea," I smirked. "Don't you dare rip that knot or I'll sue."

"That's a risk I'm willing to take." I didn't even bother to argue or complain as Roman pulled away from the kiss to gently bite my neck whilst one of his hands began to untie my shirt. "Beautiful," he murmured as the shirt slipped open and left my floral bra exposed. He lowered his head and brushed kisses all over my cleavage while I returned to running my hands through his hair.

"Mmm, baby," I moaned. "You tease so good."

"What I'm about to do to you is gonna make you feel even better," he growled. But.

"Dean, hold up! I left my water bottle in our changing room, let me grab it!"

"For fuck sake, Rollins, you forget the damn thing every other show. Fine."

"Shit!" I hissed, leaping off of Roman's lap and clutching my shirt to my chest. "They're back! What are they doing here?!"

"I don't fucking know!"

"Well they can't see me in here with you with my shirt open and my tits out! Talk about obvious!"

"Hide in the bathroom." Roman pointed at the door in the corner of the room. "I'll get them outta here as soon as I can."

This was one of the biggest mood killers I had ever experienced. Still, I wasn't in any position to protest so I hauled my ass into the little bathroom and closed the door just enough so I could see through the crack between it and the door frame. Roman bent over his sports bag, pretending to look for something, and I couldn't help but grin at the view. That ass tho.

Literally seconds later, both Seth and Dean wandered in. Way, way too close a call there. Seth frowned when he saw Roman. "Thought you were going to the bathroom?"

Roman gestured to where I was hiding. "I did. That Taco Bell I had last night ain't sitting too well. I do not recommend going in there any time soon."

"Too much information, bro," Dean laughed. He brushed back his hair and then said, "Busy night tonight, boys."

"No shit," agreed Seth. "Between The Authority wanting us to back up Orton and the twelve-man tag later, we're gonna have our work cut out for us. We could really use Sav but if they're dragging her into this stupid Diva shit then we're a man down. Where is she, anyway?"

"Wardrobe again, she said," Roman replied smoothly.

"Damn, how fucking good is she looking tonight, though?" Dean said lewdly. I rolled my eyes. "I'll let you boys in on a lil' secret since we're alone. When Rosie and I were together-" Oh my fuck, where was this going? "-she could be so experimental in the bedroom, it was every guy's fantasy." Oh fuck no. I was going to END HIM. "One of her favourite things was dressing up. Nurse, maid, schoolgirl, you name it, we played it. But my God, my favourite costume of hers was when she decided to go all Daisy Duke on me."

"Is there a reason you're telling us this?" Roman's voice held a barely-discernible tinge of irritation.

"How much of a shot do you think I have of trying to get back with her?"

"What the fuck?!" I whispered to myself, my eyes flying wide open in shock. Was Dean back on drugs or something? Or was he actually fucking insane? Even from here, through this tiny crack, I could see Roman's fist clench. _Oh Jesus, babe, please don't punch him!_ I silently pleaded.

"I'd say there's a higher chance of her dating Fandango than you," he said coolly.

"I gotta agree with him, man," Seth chipped in. "There's no goddamn way she'd ever take you back. _And_ I'm only saying that from what we saw on the DVD. God knows what happened between you two behind the scenes."

"Oh come on, she's not that psychotic anymore. You know, probably," Dean said.

"We're talking about you, you dickhead." Roman needed to cut himself off _now_ , before he gave anything away. Nope. He decided to keep talking. "You broke her, man, and that's shit we just don't need in the group. Besides, it's not like you've got any feelings for her."

"Nah, haven't done for years."

"And aren't you and Renee getting it on?" Seth questioned. "You remember Renee, right? One of Sav's goddamn best friends?"

"We ain't exclusive yet." Dean shrugged, and I rolled my eyes. So he was still incapable of being held down. No surprises there.

"Does Renee know that?"

"...Probably not."

"So why the fuck even suggest the idea of getting with Sav again?"

"Just thought she was looking extra hot today. Wouldn't mind giving her another go."

"Then case closed. Don't even think about it," Roman said curtly.

"Who pissed in your Cheerios this morning?" Dean shot back.

"I told you, I'm feeling off. Damn Mexican food never sits right with me."

"Just don't shit yourself on the way to the ring and you're fine," Dean said in an attempt at consoling him. "Look, we've got fifteen minutes till we go live. Ready to roll out and serve up some justice?"

"Always," said Seth. "Let me phone Sav and see where she is. We at least need to go over a plan with her in case she can try to make it to the tag match."

Shit. Shiiit. My phone was on loud! I quickly scrambled to pull it out of my shorts pocket and flicked it into Silent, literally just as Seth's name flashed up on the screen. Wait…Seth's…that was not Seth's name.

 _ **-Incoming Call-  
**_ _ **Your Favourite Two-Tone Ninja**_

I really needed to learn not to leave my phone unattended in the locker room. I waited until Seth hung up the phone, then heard him say, "She's not answering."

"Probably too busy talking to Kaitlyn or Rosa or someone," Roman suggested.

"Fuck it, we'll find her on the way," Dean dismissed. "Let's go."

"Give me two minutes to wet my hair and I'll be out," Roman said.

"You and your damn hair, man," Dean tutted. "You're worse than half the fucking Divas. See ya in a bit." Both he and Seth clapped Roman on the shoulder then vacated the locker room. I waited a few moments just in case one of them came barging back in, then I finally left the bathroom, probably looking more sheepish than I needed to.

Roman quirked a brow at me. "Dressing up, huh?"

"Oh, bite me," I said sourly, throwing my cowboy hat at him.

* * *

My facial expression right now could have turned a man to stone. I was standing in the middle of the ring with the rest of the Divas - bar AJ - with my arms crossed. There were a load of chairs set up in the middle of the ring and Jerry Lawler was standing to the side of us with a creepy perverted smile on his face.

I wanted to die. The boys were busy liaising with Randy about his title defense, as was being shown on the titantron, and I was about to play musical fucking chairs. "You, The Shield, _will_ have my back," Randy ordered the three of them and, by default, me. The other Divas all subtly stared at me as I glared at the screen, silently wishing death upon Orton.

Being The Authority's little lapdogs was gonna get old real quickly. Something told me we weren't gonna be hanging around with the likes of them much longer, especially not if I had anything to say about it. We were the antiheroes of WWE. We didn't follow orders, we followed justice. But right now, they were following Orton and I was following the…well, the King.

"Well, ladies and gentlemen, tonight on Raw Country, we're gonna have ourselves a special little game of musical chairs!" he gleefully announced. Please kill me. Someone. Anyone. "It's gonna feature all the Divas from the Diva reality show _Total Divas_ , and of course, uh, also the Divas that didn't make the cut."

"And thank God for that," I muttered to Kaitlyn, who laughed quietly.

"What was that, Savannah?" Jerry asked me.

"Nothing at all, King," I said sweetly, tipping my hat at him.

"Back at you," He pretended to tip his imaginary hat at me. "Now, the song for tonight's game is gonna be none other than _Cruise_ which is by our special guests, Florida Georgia Line!" The crowd went nuts at their homeboys being mentioned. After Jerry spouted some more shit about the band and their crappy song, we finally got down to the nitty gritty. The music began to blare from the speakers as we crept around the chairs, some of the girls taking it _way_ more seriously than they needed to. I, on the other hand, could not have looked more bored if I tried.

The music cut off after about fifteen seconds and all of us sat down on the available chairs, leaving only Nattie without a seat after Summer spotted the last one left and bolted for it. Hmm, Summer. Now there was someone I had unfinished business with.

After Nattie glared at all of us and exited the ring, the music started up again and we began circling the chairs again. Some of the girls were actually dipping down at each chair, getting ready to sit as soon as the music stopped. So sad. The music cut out again, and this time it was Alicia who was kicked out. She began arguing with Naomi, saying that 'Mi had pushed her off the seat. I hadn't seen; I didn't care even remotely.

The music started up for a third time, but no one cared about the game anymore. Instead, some of the girls started pushing each other. Pushes became shoves, and though the music stopped and some girls sat down, Nikki pulled Kaitlyn's chair out from under her and then it all broke down.

Oh, FUCK NO, was she gonna start on my friend! Kait and I both threw ourselves at Nikki while the rest of the Divas started up little fights between themselves. I didn't give a fuck who I was hitting, my fists were everywhere. Brie decided to join in so the four of us became a whirl of fists and hair extensions. As the crowd chanted for Jerry to intervene, Kaitlyn and I found ourselves being shoved out of the ring with the rest of the non-Total Divas.

However, while they decided to regroup at the foot of the ramp, I crept off in the opposite direction. There was a discarded chair lying outside the ring with me, so I folded it up and stashed it under my arm, crouching down by the apron behind all the Total Divas still in the ring.

They were all too busy yelling shitty trash talk at Kaitlyn, Rosa, Aksana, Foxy and Summer. They hadn't noticed I wasn't there. As the theme music to the show played out, I slid the chair back into the ring and climbed in after it. I grabbed the chair, primed myself then charged forward, bringing the steel down on Nikki's back. Her scream of pain echoed through the arena and the music abruptly cut off.

Nikki fell down at my feet and the rest of the Total Divas whirled round to face me, each of them looking aghast and/or shocked out of their wits. I grinned toothily at them all, my tongue poking out. "Hey girls," I giggled, before raising the chair again and ramming it into Brie's gut.

It went two ways; Brie, Nattie and Naomi all tried to fight (I hated doing this to two of my best friends but I had a point to make) whilst Cameron, Eva Marie and JoJo all cowered away in the corner of the ring. I was acting possessed. By all logic, I should have been overpowered almost instantly but with every crash of the chair against skin, I felt myself becoming stronger and cockier. This was the kind of wrestler I was- a brawler.

Down went Brie, down went Nattie, down went Naomi, one two three, and then I turned to the other three girls. By the time I was done, I had Kaitlyn, Rosa, Aksana, and Foxy all cheering me on from ringside (Summer just looked like she had shit smeared under her nose) and the chair was bent up and crumpled.

As I was left standing there over the Total Divas' seven unresponsive forms, chest heaving as I regained my breath, Michael Cole tried to regain composure as he reminded everyone of tonight's main event tag match: The Shield and the Wyatt Family versus CM Punk, Daniel Bryan, the Rhodes brother and the Usos. My work on Raw wasn't done yet, it seemed. Dropping the chair, I rolled out of the ring and pushed myself past the girls outside the ring, not looking back as I headed back to the gorilla.

AJ was watching from behind the curtain. When she saw me, she let out a small squeak and tried to hurry away but I caught her by her long brown hair. "Not so fast, short-ass. You and I are gonna have a little talk about Survivor Series."

* * *

We didn't back up Randy when he tried to attack Big Show after his match with Ryback. I refused to. The guys really tried to persuade me to but when I pointed out that Randy wasn't gonna be there during our tag match - not to mention how disrespectfully he'd spoken to them earlier - they actually listened. I knew we were gonna have some issues with The Authority after this one but I didn't care. I was _done_ with being told what to do.

However, The Authority was actually the least of our concerns at the moment. We currently stood outside the ring, staring down our opposition and waiting for the boys' partners in the 12-man tag, the Wyatts. I was in my regular valet gear just in case I felt the need to get involved. Abruptly the lights all cut out, and Bray appeared on the titantron, holding his lantern and flanked by Erick Rowan and Luke Harper.

"We're here," he whispered, and blew out the flame.

In the darkness of the arena, I took the opportunity to slip my hand into the back pocket of Roman's cargo pants and gave his ass a firm squeeze. He let out a small growl of surprise, and I suddenly felt his mouth by my ear. "You're gonna pay for that one later," he murmured.

"Counting on it," I breathed out, brushing my lips over his briefly. We were behind Dean and Seth; they didn't notice a thing. When the lights came back on, the Wyatts didn't bother waiting at the foot of the ramp like they normally did. Instead, they stalked round to where the four of us were standing, prompting a staredown.

I did not like the way Bray was looking at me. Goosebumps ran over my skin as I watched his eyes trace over me from head to toe before looking me dead in the eyes. It was like he was staring into my damn soul. He turned his gaze away finally, offering his hand to Dean to shake, but Dean ignored him. The six of them climbed onto the apron of their corner, with Dean starting off the match against Jimmy Uso. The bell rung, and it was on.

The match ended up being very, very even, which worried me. The last thing we needed was to lose going into Survivor Series. AJ and I had reluctantly come to the agreement that we would round up the rest of the non-Total Divas to go against the others on Sunday, and the match had been made official. The boys' match was also confirmed against the Rhodes, Usos, and whoever else they found so a LOT was riding on this match.

Rowan was currently knocking the hell out of Daniel Bryan, but as he ended up closer to our corner, Dean managed to tag himself back in. He exploded on Bryan, but as he went for some kind of whirling fist on Daniel, Bryan countered and rammed his shoulder into Dean's stomach. Both of them ended on the mat and they both really needed to tag out.

As the other side began to try to rally Bryan enough to get him to move, all five men on our side of the apron sprung into the ring and charged, knocking everyone the others side off the apron and down to the floor. Rowan had blindsided the ref, which I took as my chance to get involved.

Leaping into the ring, I sprinted forward and cleared through the gap Roman and Seth left me, springing up over the ropes and turnbuckle and colliding with the group of men outside in a suicide senton, my hundred and nine pound frame knocking them to the ground. The crowd went nuts, cheering, yelling, whooping as the ref tried to restore order as we went to commercial. Since none of the guys outside the ring were legal, I could do what I wanted and not get us and the Wyatts disqualified. I clambered to my feet at the same time Cody Rhodes did, the first guy on his team to get to his feet. That son of a bitch had taken my boys' belts and I still wasn't happy about it.

I did what any manager in my position would do, really. I jumped at Cody and booted him in the face with a spinning heel kick, which knocked him down again. I scrambled behind him and pushed him up into a sitting position, yanking his arms back and locking my legs behind his neck to push him into a Texas Chainsaw. He was too big for me to lock the bridge in, but this was enough to fuck up his shoulders.

I didn't have the hold in for very long. A set of beefy arms wrapped around my waist and ripped me off of Cody. As I was unceremoniously lifted into the air, I saw that it was either Jimmy or Jey - fuck if I could tell them apart - that had hold of me. Shit. I was then scooped over his shoulders and slammed backwards into the hard floor with a Samoan Drop.

I cried out in agony as my spine hit the flooring, arching up to try to take the pressure off. The next thing I saw was a black mass flying over me as Roman suddenly appeared and speared the shit out of his cousin. Rule #1) Don't Samoan Drop a dude's girlfriend, even if you don't know she's his girlfriend.

Thank God we were on commercial break and the ref could get the match back under control without too many people seeing him having to break up this fight, because Roman and I were now going in _hard_ on the Usos. Unfortunately, I was actually threatened with being ejected from ringside if I didn't buck up my ideas and back off, so I ended up being banished to our corner of the ring.

By the time we came back on air, Daniel was still legal for the other team and Roman had just tagged back in for us. Mmm, God, I loved watching him get all fired up. He was getting some seriously hard hits in, sweat glistening on his skin and his hair wild like a mane. Something told me I wouldn't be getting a lot of sleep tonight, if you catch my drift, hehehe…

Then Bryan managed to reverse a move into a DDT and it all started to go a bit south. Bryan managed to get enough separation to tag in Punk just as Roman tagged in Dean. Both men charged at each other with Punk almost removing Dean's head with a devastating clothesline before he knocked Rowan, Harper and Roman off the apron. Seth tried to intervene and give Dean a chance to recuperate, but Punk managed to lay them both flat with a double neckbreaker. No, no, no, it wasn't supposed to go this way!

"Seth, get outta there!" I screamed, slapping my hands down on the mat as he draped himself over the corner to get his bearings. It was too late. Punk was flitting from corner to corner, delivering knees to the faces of Seth and Dean each time before clotheslining Seth and kneeing Dean for a third time.

Super fucking CM Punk, always ready to deliver some self-righteousness when anyone else tried making a name for themselves. Was I bitter? Too fucking right I was. I stood there sourly as Punk hit Dean with an elbow drop from the top turnbuckle, furious I couldn't get involved because then I'd get the team DQ'd. So I stuck to screaming abuse up at Punk, who just waved tauntingly at me and blew me a kiss.

This was followed by his call for the Go To Sleep, which spurned me into climbing up to stand on the apron. Surely a DQ loss was better than losing cleanly?! It didn't matter; as soon as I crouched through the rope, the ref was there, telling me to get out _now_. Next thing I felt was a hand around my arm and I was yanked backwards, tripping over my own feet and rolling out of the ring.

I landed on my hands and knees and looked up to see Bray Wyatt in the ring. Punk dropped Dean out of the way as Bray went for a forearm to the face, making the bearded one miss his mark so Punk could connect a kick to the side of his head. Dean then tried to blindside Punk from the back but it _still_ didn't work. Punk knocked Dean's legs out from under him and locked in the Anaconda Vise.

Dean began to flail violently and for a moment I really thought he was gonna tap, but at the last second Rowan and Harper threw themselves into the ring to break the hold. This prompted the Usos to also get into the ring and they sent both members of the Wyatt Family sprawling to the outside. I was gripping my damp hair in pure anger, because I just _knew_ everything was about to go to shit.

In all the distraction, Dean managed to hit Punk with his Headlock Driver but then fucking _Goldust_ of all people managed to break the pin! Sure, he didn't have a whole lot of time to celebrate because Roman popped up and speared the old man straight out of his Spandex. Cody then got involved and Cross-Rhodes'd Roman for spearing his brother…which then prompted Seth to hit Rhodes with a bomb into the turnbuckles. Punk then suddenly scooped Seth over his shoulder which allowed Daniel to knock him down before the little goat turned and hit Bray with a suicide dive.

Punk shoved Seth out of the ring and Dean was just about to attack from behind for a second time, but Punk being the veteran he was got wise. He locked up Dean's arm, spun him around and brought him up over his shoulder before dropping Dean facefirst onto his knee.

GT-fucking-S.

I didn't care about the DQ now, and I shot into the ring at the same time Punk dropped onto Dean to cover him but I was too slow. The three count hit and Punk's music blared through the speakers. NO. OKAY, FUCK NO. THIS WAS NOT HAPPENING.

I didn't care that I was a woman and that Punk had well over a hundred pounds on me. I flew at him, and since he really wasn't expecting it, I managed to wrap my arms around his neck and flip him around in a hurricanrana just as the Real Americans stormed the ring, backing us up. I shoved Punk in Wyatt's direction and he, Rowan and Antonio Cesaro got to stomping the shit out of him whilst Harper and Jack Swagger did the same thing to Daniel Bryan in the other corner. I rolled out of the ring and regrouped with Seth, Roman and Dean and that was when we all heard the music none of us expected.

 _Booyaka, booyaka, 619!  
Booyaka, booyaka, that's my number!_

"No goddamn way!" I shouted. What the fuck was Rey Mysterio doing back!? He hadn't been around since before I'd even debuted on the main roster, out on a knee injury! The little bastard flew into the ring, taking out Rowan and Cesaro before hitting Swagger and Harper with a double 619. We probably should have helped out, to be fair, but we really didn't need any injuries before Sunday night, so we ended up just sort of…creeping away unnoticed. Something told me that the Rhodes' and the Usos had found their other partner for Survivor Series.

* * *

"I'm lucky my fucking nose isn't broken," Dean grumbled when we were back in our locker room, pinching it.

"You're fucking lucky I don't beat your ass for taking the pin!" I threatened. "I had to step in! I was prepared to get you disqualified just to avoid the humiliation of losing CM fucking Punk again!"

"Well then maybe you could have gotten in the ring a little quicker instead of standing there all hesitant!" he retorted, throwing his tank top at me.

"Sure, blame it on me, there's a surprise," I said bitterly, sidestepping the tank top and removing my bolero followed by the crop top, shoving them into the bag to return to Wardrobe.

"Hey Sav?" Seth piped up.

"Yeah?"

"I don't wanna be rude, and you don't have to answer if you don't want, but…what's that?" Seth pointed to my lower abdomen. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. I was honestly surprised it had taken this long for someone to notice it.

"It's a scar," I replied, trying to keep my voice even.

"How long has that been there?" he asked with a frown. "I've never noticed it before, but I saw it when you came into Catering. I meant to ask but I didn't wanna since there were a lot of people around."

"I used to…um…I covered it with makeup," I said, my voice barely above a whisper at this point. God, this was so hard. That was when Roman came up behind me and placed a comforting hand on my shoulder. I turned to look up at him and he smiled encouragingly.

"You've got this, Sav," he said confidently.

"You know?" Seth said accusingly.

"We both do, bro, so shut up and let her tell you," Dean snapped.

"Dean, it's okay," I said softly. "He should be annoyed. It's not fair that I've kept it hidden from you, Seth. You're my brother and my best friend, but it's really hard for me to let people in on this. When I was seventeen, I…had an accident. A self-inflicted one. I ended up in hospital having an operation on my liver and this is the result. I kept it hidden for all these years because I was so ashamed of it, but…something's made me realise that maybe my past isn't something I should keep covered up."

"C'mere, sis," Seth said warmly, pulling me into his arms and giving me a tight hug. "I shouldn't have snapped like that. I get why you didn't tell me. But look at it this way. You've just proved you're the strongest person on this damn roster."

"I love you, man," I said quietly. "I'm sorry it's taken this long to tell you."

Seth kissed the top of my head. "It doesn't matter. Now I know and I'll never ask again."

Roman loudly cleared his throat. "Sav, I hate to break this up and hurry you but don't forget we've got that meet and greet. The poor kid'll be dead on their feet before we even get there."

"Oh shit, yeah. Give me two minutes," I said hastily, letting go of Seth. I quickly dressed back in my ripped jeans from this afternoon, but teamed them with my combat boots and grey War Cry merch tank top to keep up character. Roman had remained in his cargo pants and combat boots but had changed into a Hounds of Justice t-shirt. "Right. Ready."

"We'll probably be about a half hour," Roman said to the others.

"Sure man, we'll find something to do," said Seth, fist-bumping him. "Shoot us a text when you're out."

"Got it," I said. "Let's move."

The meet and greet room was a five minute walk from our locker room. Roman and I stood at a platonic distance from each other just in case anyone was hanging around who would see us. Our chatter was absent-minded, just talking about Survivor Series, where we'd go for breakfast tomorrow and what time we'd need to set off for Atlanta, Georgia, to make it in time for the SmackDown taping.

"Why don't we just get a few late tickets and fly?" Roman suggested as we walked through the meet and greet door.

"It's barely a four hour drive, babe," I said. "We'd only need to leave at mid…" My voice trailed off when I saw who was standing in the middle of the room aside from a member of the arena security. Checked shirt. Bootcut jeans. Brown walking boots. Stetson placed on top of his now-very-greying brown hair. A backstage pass around his neck. It couldn't be. It couldn't. It wasn't.

It was.

"Daddy?" I whispered.

"Daddy?" Roman snorted. "Didn't know you were into that kinda thing, Sa-" He cut himself off when he saw I wasn't paying attention to him. I just stared. Stared at the man I hadn't seen in nine years as he stared back at me.

"Annie," he finally said, opening his arms.

I burst into tears. "Daddy. Daddy, my Daddy," I sobbed as I practically ran over to him. He pulled me close into his arms as I flung mine around his neck, howling into his flannel shirt. He still smelt like wood chips

"My Annie," he mumbled, "My beautiful baby girl. I'm so proud of you."

"Daddy," I repeatedly cried out, unable to control myself. "Why, Daddy? Why are you here? Why did you leave me? Why didn't you want me?"

"Sit down, Annie," Thomas said quietly. "Calm down, baby, let me talk to you."

Choking down another sob, I silently nodded and allowed him to lead me over to the chairs in the corner. He sat in one, I sat in the other and Roman came up behind me, placing his hand on my shoulder and squeezing.

"W-why are y-you h-here?" I choked out. "I thought y-you lived in Alab-bama?"

"I do," he said gently. "Nashville is only an hour and a half over the state line from Huntsville. I saw that Raw was gonna be here and…I couldn't pass over the chance to see you again. Not after all this time."

"W-were you...in the crowd?"

He nodded. "I was watchin' the whole thing, Annie. Truth be told, I've been watchin' WWE since the day your grandmomma told me you'd been signed."

"W-what do you th-think?" My voice was barely above a whisper.

He smiled so warmly at me. It was the smile he'd give me after a school play, or if I told him I'd been made hall monitor, or gotten an A on a pop quiz. "You're amazin', honey. I never should have doubted you for one second when you started all them lessons. You're a natural. My incredible daughter flyin' through the air like that. I was gaspin' out loud. You never were one to tangle with the girls, were you?"

I shook my head with a sniffley laugh. "I g-guess not. S-so you've been watching a-all this t-time?"

Thomas unbuttoned his shirt and held it open to show me the t-shirt underneath; it was my very first Let Me Hear Your War Cry merch shirt released back in June. "I've been supportin' my baby girl and The Shield since I first saw you on my TV. I was waitin' for a show to come to Alabama, but it never did."

"S-so...Alabama. Is it n-nice? What are y-you doing n-now?"

"I run my own tree fellin' company," he told me. "It's doin' pretty good. I live on a big estate with…with my wife."

"You h-have another wife?" I whispered.

Thomas nodded. "I do. Her name is Juliette. She's a baker at the local bakery and she's a lovely woman. I think you'd really like her. We also have a son, your half-brother. Brayden. He's now comin' up to eight." He fished his phone out of his pocket and showed me his lock screen background. It was him on the beach with a pretty blonde woman who held a lot of resemblance to Julia Roberts and a small blonde boy sat between them, all three grinning at the camera.

"They look…really nice," I said lamely. He had another wife. A wife, a son, a whole new life like he'd never been married to Mom…or a daughter.

I had to understand why. This could be my only opportunity. It was go hard or go home.

"W-why? Daddy, I n-need to know," I whimpered. "Y-you left me. I was so y-young." I cleared my throat. "I was fifteen! Fifteen years old and you left me alone to fend for myself!"

"Oh Annie, of course I didn't! Why do you think I left you in foster care?" he said. "I couldn't leave you alone! I'm your father, I adored you."

"Then how could you run away and just dump me like that?!" I passionately demanded. "My life was in tatters! Mom was dead, you didn't give a shit about me! My GPA was dropping, I was skipping school, fighting, and all to get your attention and I got _nothing_!"

"Annie, please don't shout," he cringed. "You need to understand, I was goin' through a lot of stuff too! Your mother was the only woman I'd loved, her death devastated me! Every time I looked at you, I saw her! It wasn't good for me!"

"I'm your fucking daughter!" I cried, my temper beginning to flair. Roman's hand on my shoulder tightened, but I barely felt it. "It shouldn't matter that I look like Mom! I needed you more than ever and YOU LEFT ME!" I screamed the last three words, and Thomas flinched back from me.

"Annie, stop!" he insisted. "I came here to apologise to you!"

"Apologise?!" I repeated incredulously. "You fuck off out of my life for TEN FUCKING YEARS and _now_ you want to apologise?! HOW DARE YOU!"

"Savannah, I'm still your father! You can't talk to me like this!"

"Yes I fucking can, you asshole!" I stood up abruptly, baring down on him. "Do you wanna know the fucking truth of what you did to me, DADDY?! I snapped! I got kicked out of two schools, got into fights with anyone I could, I smoked, I fucked anything that walked, I turned into a borderline alcoholic! I tried to kill myself! I was so low and alone that I thought DEATH was the only way out, and that is ALL because of you! All that was before I even fucking turned eighteen! That was when I left Texas and became the one thing you said I'd never be; a wrestler! Oh, but don't think that saved me. Nope, I was still drinking myself half to death and sleeping around, but I decided to go ahead and add in some drugs on top of it all!"

"Annie-"

"NO! No, don't fucking 'Annie' me! You are nothing to me anymore, Thomas! Nothing! As far as I'm concerned, the only father I have is Frank, the man who saved my life and made me feel more loved in nine months than you did in fifteen fucking years! He supported my wrestling, he supported me through fucking everything and he, HE is my father! Not you! If I could have changed my name to Savannah Rose Moore, I would have! Because I am not a Jordan, as far as I'm fucking concerned! My name is the only thing that connects me to you! You know what?! I'm actually fucking HAPPY you dumped me in care because I found the man who gave me true fatherly love and he and my foster mother STILL support me to this day! Frank Moore is a better father than you could ever fucking be and I'm PROUD to think of myself as his daughter!" I turned on my heel and proceeded to storm towards the door. Roman began to follow me but Thomas was faster, grabbing hold of my hand to stop me.

"Savannah Rose Jordan, you listen to me!"

"Get the fuck off me. Now," I spat through gritted teeth, not even turning around.

"Come on, man, back up," Roman ordered, stolidly pushing Thomas back. "You've done enough."

"Sorry, why are you even in here, son?" Thomas rudely demanded. "Last I saw, the two of you don't even like each other! So forgive me for askin' you kindly get your hands off me and leave me to have this conversation with my daughter privately."

That tore it. I whirled around with a deep scowl twisting my face. "Don't you fucking talk to him like that! He's in here because he's my boyfriend! Another man who cares about me more than you could ever hope to." I didn't care that I'd just blown my own cover; who would he tell? His precious fucking Juliette? I looked at the security guard in the corner. "Get him out of here."

"Annie! Savannah, no, don't!" Thomas shouted as the security guard nodded and wrapped a hand around his upper arm, steering him out of the room. "Just let me talk to you. Annie! Annie!"

"FUCK OFF! I AM NOT YOUR ANNIE!" I screamed, beginning to cry again. The security guard wrestled my father out of the room and Roman and I followed, me now sobbing violently again, past caring who saw me. "I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU SO FUCKING MUCH! I. HATE. YOU."

Blinded by anger, I whirled around and ploughed my fist into the wall, the white plaster crumbling and caving in. I barely felt it, though the blood pouring from my slashed up knuckles told me I'd be feeling it in the morning.

"Sav! Baby girl, no!" Roman gasped, snatching my bleeding hand and examining it before snatching a rag from a nearby table and binding it around the knuckles. Conveniently, Seth and Dean chose that moment to turn the corner, and both of them broke into a run when they saw the hubbub. Seth immediately pulled me to him and held me protectively whilst Dean stormed up to Roman.

"What the fuck is going on?!" he questioned.

"The meet and greet didn't go to plan," Roman said dryly.

"Sav?! Why are you crying?!" Seth urgently questioned me. He looked at my bound hand. "What did you do?!"

"Annie-" Thomas tried one last time, still fighting the security guard.

"GET HIM OUT OF HERE!" I yelled at the security guard.

"Who is that?!" Seth now asked.

"My daddy," I wept. "I want to go back to the hotel, please. Now."

"Of course," Seth said firmly. "Dean, do you wanna go with Mr Jordan and make sure he leaves the premise?"

"I sure do," Dean said menacingly, cracking his knuckles. He jerked his head at the security guard. "Let's move, bro." The two of them went off towards the exit, my dad shouting at me the entire time but I tuned him out, my crying overpowering everything.

"It's okay, Savvy. It's okay," Seth said soothingly, rubbing my back. I stiffened under his touch, wishing more than anything that it was Roman and not Seth. "We're getting you out of here. It's okay. You're okay."

* * *

I didn't stop crying for the rest of the night. I calmed myself down enough for the car journey back to the hotel and while I walked up to my room, but the second I was behind closed doors I broke down again. Dressed in my PJs, I curled up in the double bed in the fetal position, unable to stop. My hand was resting against my chest, wounds cleaned and dressed in bandages.

Why had he come back? Why? I'd heard nothing from my dad since one visit at age sixteen and suddenly he'd seen fit to just walk through a door I'd locked nine years ago?! No! It didn't work that way! Seeing him again had just opened up so many raw wounds. I could physically feel the pain in my chest, constricting over my heart.

A knock sounded at the door. I ignored it. Then there was second knock, more insistent, so I got up, crossed the room and peeked through the peephole.

I opened the door without a word, and the second Roman saw my tearstained face, he scooped me up into his arms, stepping inside and kicking the door shut behind him. He carried me over to the bed, used one hand to push the covers back and placed me down. He removed his shoes, sweatpants and t-shirt and climbed into the bed beside me, wrapping his arms tightly around me and cradled me against his chest as I wept.

"Baby girl, tell me what I can do," he whispered. "Tell me how to make you feel better and I'll do it."

"J-just h-hold m-me," I stuttered out.

"I've got you, Savvy," he promised, kissing me on the forehead.

"P-promise me you'll n-never leave m-me," I pleaded. "D-don't l-leave me a-alone. I know w-we've only j-just come to t-terms with h-how we f-feel, but I n-need you! P-promise me, Roman! D-don't go…p-please don't g-go…" I'd tired myself out, and with it being close to midnight, I could feel myself physically falling asleep as I spoke. My voice was trailing off, my eyes heavy and drooping.

"I'm not going anywhere, Savvy. I promise you that," was the last thing I heard.

* * *

 **A/N- So apparently we're back to the 20 page chapters. Aight, I'll roll with it. I really, really hope you enjoyed the chapter! Everything's happening now, so please leave a review, I'd LOVE to hear all your thoughts! It's only gonna get more dramatic and angsty from here on out! Next chapter's gonna be a lot more lighthearted, don't worry! See y'all around! Xx Gee xX**

 **PS - If you wondered, Thomas Jordan's faceclaim is Dennis Quaid. I've put a picture in my Polyvore collection, which you can find on my account zombies-and-harlequins! Check it out!**

 **PPS- Talking of checking things out, my YouTube playlist for** _ **Speared Through The Heart**_ **is linked on my profile page. I update it as the fic goes along XD**

 _ **Songs for Chapter Sixteen-**_

 _ **Ariana Grande ft. Nicki Minaj - Side to Side  
**_ _ **Avril Lavigne - Girlfriend  
**_ _ **Professor Green ft. Emeli Sande - Read All About It  
**_ _ **Kelly Clarkson - Because of You**_


	17. You Had Me at Hello

**A/N-** **Thank you so much to The Snake Pirate, Shield316 and Beagle Brother for reviewing!**

* * *

 **Chapter Seventeen – You Had Me at Hello**

* * *

 _ **~ 2003 ~**_

* * *

March in Texas was always pretty warm compared to a lot of other states. Today was in the mid 70s. It was the 17th, and it was gonna be a date forever etched into my mind for the rest of my goddamn life. Walking back from school with the sun beating down, I had an ironic spring in my step. My best friend, less so.

"I can't believe you got away with dressin' like that for school!" Macie exclaimed, shaking her head.

"Please, what were they gonna do, kick me out when it's my last day? Call my dad?" I snorted. "Like he'd give a fuck."

"So he's really goin' through with it?" she whispered worriedly. "He's really leavin' you?"

"Tonight, so he says," I said bitterly, rolling my eyes. "He won't go through with it, he was just sayin' it to get me to behave and it backfired. I don't listen to empty threats, Mace."

"But Savvy, he's really pulled you outta school," she pointed out. "What if he's really leavin' too? Fuck, I was there when he was fillin' in all that paperwork and it had the city crest on it! Looked pretty real to me too!"

"Jesus, Macie, shut up," I snapped. "Who gives a shit? Daddy dearest doesn't want me anyway. I hope I really am goin' into care. Maybe I'll get a family that actually loves me."

"Oh Sav, you don't mean that," Macie said worriedly. "Tom loves you, you know he does. Your mom's death has just hit him real hard."

"What, and it didn't hit me? Again, Mace, shut up," I said scornfully. "If he loved me then he wouldn't be doin' this, would he? No, he fuckin' wouldn't."

"Sav, I didn't mean nothin' by it!" she hastily said. "All I was sayin' is-"

"Macie, I seriously recommend shuttin' your mouth unless you want me to do to you what I did to Lilah for not shuttin' the fuck up either," I threatened. "And I like you, so I'd really rather not do that."

"But what about Kyle?" Fucking hell, she was persistent.

"What _about_ Kyle?" I said flippantly, waving a hand. "He's not my boyfriend, is he? Whatever school I end up in is gonna have some other stupid jock like him. Why are you askin' about him, anyway?"

"It's just…he really likes you," she said pathetically.

I laughed. "He's fuckin' seventeen. He don't like me, he likes that I put out."

"You don't know that. I think he cares about you a lot."

"We had sex under the bleachers after Homecomin'. If that don't scream 'we ain't official' I don't know what does. He most certainly does not care about me."

"But if you've been sleepin' with him since October-"

"Macie! Darlin', I really do think you need to shut your mouth now. I'm done with this conversation. I don't wanna talk about school, or movin', or Kyle, or anythin' like that. I've got trainin' tonight and I'd like to focus on that, thank you."

"Sorry," she said immediately, falling quiet. We walked in silence for the next block until we reached my house; hers was next door. When we stood at the foot of my path, her mouth dropped open and her eyes widened. I just stayed completely impassive.

A huge U-Haul was parked outside my house. The yard was littered with sealed cardboard boxes, some labeled SAVANNAH, the others…labeled ALABAMA. Ala-fucking-bama?! Dad had never disclosed where he was moving too, which was part of the reason I'd never believed he'd really meant it. This was too real now. He couldn't be doing this. He couldn't.

Fear was rising in my chest rapidly, but as soon as I saw Dad step out of the front door, I swallowed it. Not today, Satan. When he saw me, he dropped the box he was holding - a SAVANNAH one - with the rest and walked up to me, hands jammed in his pockets.

"Hi Daddy," I said nonchalantly. "What's goin' on? Goin' somewhere?"

"Annie, don't do this," he said heavily. "Don't make it harder than it has to be."

"I'm not makin' anythin' harder, Daddy," I said innocently, batting my eyelashes at him. "You decided to do this, not me. You're the one who's been actin' like a selfish dick for the last year, not me. You're the one who wants to forget Mom ever existed, not me. You're the one walkin' out on your little girl, not me."

"Stop sayin' stuff like that!" Dad exclaimed, frustrated. "You know why we're doin' this."

"No Daddy. You. Why _you're_ doin' this," I corrected. "Don't act like any of this is my fault."

"Well if you wanna start pointin' fingers, Annie, let's take a look at your behaviour lately," Dad snapped. "Your grades, your fights, your attitude to life, your…what the fuck are you wearin'?!"

I smirked down at my mini skirt, black peasant crop top and chunky boot combination. "What's the matter? Don't like it? Aw, too bad."

"Annie!" Dad seized hold of my shoulders and shook me none too gently. "Knock this shit off! Get changed and make yourself look presentable for when Megan from DFPS picks you up. And for God's sake, try to make that mess your hair is look halfway acceptable."

I twirled a strand of my half ginger, half toxic green dip-dyed hair around my finger. "I like it. I'm sure my new mommy and daddy will too."

"They will _not_ be your new 'mommy and daddy,'" Dad snapped. "These families are gonna be lookin' after you til you're legally old enough to take care of yourself. That is _it_."

"I don't get why you're gettin' so pissed off," I said nonchalantly. "You don't want me anymore so why does it matter that some other family does?"

"It's not that I don't want you, Annie, don't think that," he said heavily. "I love you so much, but I can't be the one to look after you anymore. Not after all that's happened."

"Same shit, different day," I said sourly. "Believe what you want, Daddy."

With a defeated sigh, Dad released my shoulders and took a step back, gesturing to the boxes on the lawn. "I've packed your things up as best I could. I've left your furniture since…well, your new home will have everything you need."

"Well gee, how considerate of you." I glared at him and proceeded to shove past him, Macie on my heels, and sat down on the doorstep, sourly watching Dad going through all the boxes and inventorying everything.

"Savvy, what are you gonna do?" Macie whispered.

"Nothin'," I said blankly, picking at my thumbnail. "I'm leavin', Mace. He wants me gone, so I'm goin'. His loss."

"But…I'm gonna miss you," she said sadly, lacing her fingers through mine. "You're my best friend."

"Hey," I said quietly, squeezing her hand and wrapping my other arm around her. "I'm gonna be okay. It's not like I'm leavin' the state, I'll still be in Dallas. As soon as I know where I am, I'll call you, okay?" She was severely pissing me off; I was getting kicked out but she was making it about her?! What the fuck?! Luckily for her, I was in no mood to start screaming at her.

"We'll talk every day, right?" she said. "After school?"

"Sure, Mace," I replied. "Every day." We really wouldn't. I couldn't wait to get rid of her. Still, I needed _someone_ on my side before I left, so the two of us pulled each other into a tight embrace. That was when a car honked. Letting go of Macie, I turned my head towards the sound and saw that a silver SUV had pulled up in front of the house. A middle-aged blonde woman got out, shook hands with Dad and the two of them proceeded to start conversing. Another man had also exited the car and was now putting the boxes labeled for me in the back of the SUV.

"This doesn't look good," I muttered. Sure enough, Dad beckoned me over a few moments later with a wave of his hand. Macie jumped up and, after shooting me a small smile, she walked away through the gate that connected our two yards. Shoving myself to my feet, I plastered a smirk to my face and sauntered over, adjusting my skirt to make it shorter, tearing a new ladder in my already very ripped tights and straightening out my choker necklace.

"You called, Daddy?" I said sweetly.

"Annie, this is Megan," he introduced, gesturing to the blonde woman. "She's gonna be taking you to the foster home."

"Savannah, so nice to meet you," Megan said warmly, holding out her hand. I just stared at it until she drew it back in.

"Annie, be nice," Dad scolded.

"I am bein' nice."

"Well, I, er…anyway," Megan tried to continue in the same bright tone of voice. "We're all very excited to have you joining us at DFPS. A room at the house is all set up ready for you, since your foster family are unable to collect you until next Tuesday."

"Whoop-de-fuckin'-doo," I muttered. So this new family were just so desperate to foster that they couldn't pick me up for another week. That just gave me so much hope.

"Thank you for doing this, Megan," Dad said to her. "I know this is probably an unorthodox situation for a teenager going into care, but-"

"Mr Jordan, we don't judge or question any reasons given to us," she gently interrupted. "Sometimes this is the only course of action left and we understand that. We're happy to have Savannah with us."

Dad nodded slowly, then sucked in a deep breathe, place a hand on my upper arm and quietly said, "I love you, Annie, and please know that I'm gonna miss you so much. But this is the best thing for us now."

"Stop sayin' that," I snapped. "It's not best for us, it's best for _you_. I fuckin' said that. Don't act like this was _ever_ my choice!" I turned my attention to Megan. "Can we just…leave? Please? I'm done here."

Megan now looked positively alarmed at my attitude, but she shook it off and - still going for the happy-go-lucky tone - said, "Very well, Savannah. If that's…all you have to say to your father then feel free to get in the car."

"I love you, Annie," Dad said desperately as I turned my back on him and began to walk to the silver car. "Never forget that."

I threw my middle finger up without turning around and snarled out, "Fuck you, Thomas." And with that, I climbed into the car and slammed the door shut behind me, refusing to even look out the windows. The man who had been packing up my things soon appeared in the driver's seat, and Megan saw fit to sit next to me.

"All ready?" she asked me. I didn't reply. "Okay then."

The first ten minutes of the car ride were complete silence. All I did was glare out the front windscreen, silently seething. How could he? How could he do this to me?! I was his _daughter_! I was barely fifteen and he…he didn't want me anymore. My own dad didn't want me.

Saying it made it real. The dam of emotions inside me broke down…and I cracked.

"Take me back," I said.

"Sorry, Savannah, what was that?" Megan asked with a frown.

"I want to go back!" I yelled.

"Savannah!" she gasped. "Calm down, sweetheart! I understand this must be hard for you, but-"

"I want to go back! Take me back!" I shouted. "I don't want to be here with you! I want to be with my dad!"

"Savannah, you need to listen to me now." Megan was still attempting to be all floaty and sweet and her tone of voice made me want to punch her lights out. "Your father…clearly there has been some miscommunication between the two of you. He gave up his parental guardian rights to you when he signed you over to the city's care. You can't go back."

"I can! I can, I can, I can!" I hysterically insisted. When all she did was shake her head, I raised my legs up, turned my body and began to kick the soles of my DM boots against the door. "Take me home! I want to go home! DADDY!" I began to scream, kicking and flailing as Megan tried restraining me. "TAKE ME HOME! I WANT MY DAD! DADDY! DADDY!"

* * *

 _ **~2013~**_

* * *

"Daddy!"

"Baby girl!"

"I want to go home!"

"Sav, wake up!"

"I want my daddy!"

"SAVANNAH!"

My eyes snapped open as I felt myself being shaken awake, and the first thing I saw was a pair of worried grey eyes. "Roman!" I gasped tearfully, throwing my arms around his neck and binding myself to him.

"Shh, Sav, shh, it's okay," he soothed, running his hand up and down my back. "I'm here, I'm here, I've got you. It's okay. Tell me what happened."

"My d-dream," I stuttered. "My d-dad…it was r-real. S-so clear. The d-day he left me…it was like it was happening all over again…it hurts like it did then…"

Roman shifted our bodies around, lifting me up so I was sitting on his lap while he leaned back against the headboard, cradling me against him. "Do you wanna talk about it?"

I began to shake my head no, but at the last second changed to a nod. If I couldn't tell Roman, then who could I tell? "I guess seeing…him last night triggered the memory. I closed the door on that man years ago, but he blew it off its fucking hinges the second I stepped in that room."

"Is that the first time you've seen him since he left?"

I shook my head. "No. The second. There was one other time, when I was sixteen."

"And how did that go?"

I swallowed heavily. "Even worse than yesterday. It was a compete train wreck from beginning to end. My foster parents at the time - this was way before Frank and Nora - they found out my dad's contact details and thought it'd be good for us to catch up with each other. They paid for him to fly back to Dallas for the weekend and everything. But from the moment we laid eyes on each other, it just blew up in their faces. I was so hostile towards my father, barely looking at him, giving him two-word answers to his questions. He was getting more and more disheartened by the minute, so much that after about an hour we just sat there in complete silence, which I broke with that age old question: 'why did you abandon me, Daddy? Why did you leave me alone like this?' And do you know what he fucking told me? 'Because I can't have you as my daughter anymore, Annie.' I lost it. I hit him. I punched my own dad clean in the face and started screaming at him. Not even words, just these awful possessed shrieking noises. My foster parents came running in because they thought I was dying or something. I ran out of the house and kept running until I was about two miles away, when I collapsed in an alleyway. When I eventually made my way back, my dad was gone, and that was it. I've never heard from him since, until now."

Roman stayed quiet for a moment, his hand keeping up its soothing rhythm on my back. "That's some heavy shit," he finally said.

"Tell me about it," I muttered. "I know that's a lot to unload on you at once." I shrugged. "I really wasn't exaggerating when I said I had a fucked up adolescence."

"You weren't, were you," Roman mused. He kissed me on the cheek, moving his hand from my back to stroke my hair. "That scared me, babe. I'm not gonna lie. I woke up because you started making these weird whimpering noises. Then suddenly you were thrashing around and screaming and crying out. I thought I was gonna have to call a fucking exorcist or something. I was thirty seconds away from throwing water in your face just to wake you up."

"I didn't mean to frighten you," I said quietly, caressing his cheek with the tips of my fingers. "I guess now we're gonna be sharing a bed regularly, it's probably a good time to tell you I'm prone to violent nightmares. That was the first really bad one I've had in a couple of years, but I figure you should know in case I punch you in my sleep or something."

"Does that happen often?" Roman asked, somewhat alarmed.

"It's been known." I scratched the back of my neck awkwardly. "I guess you didn't know what you were getting into when you decided being my boyfriend was a good idea."

"A few nightmares isn't gonna make me walk away, Sav," he said. "If anything, now I know I'm not gonna leave you by yourself at night."

"What did I do to deserve you?" I said tenderly, pressing my lips to his for a few seconds. When I pulled back, I snorted. "This is getting too fucking Nicolas Sparks levels of soppy for me. Can you either fuck me or call me a crazy bitch just to make things seem more normal?"

"Since you put it so charmingly," Roman laughed, rolling us to the side so I was lying down and he hovered over me. He began to trail kisses along my jaw when I caught sight of myself in the mirror next to the bed.

"Oh God, abort!" I groaned.

Roman stopped himself from moving lower down my body and looked at me, quirking a brow. "I know it's been a couple of days and I was outta practice Sunday night, but I'm not that bad."

"What? No, you moron. Trust me, you're more than perfect at this," I said, kissing the end of his nose when he crawled back up to look at my face. "But I am not having sex with you when I look like…this. Ew, no way."

"I'm a guy, I'm not really fussed how you look," he joked.

"I'm wearing Disney Princess pyjamas and SpongeBob socks, I've got tear stains all over my cheeks, I haven't washed my hair and my morning breath is appalling," I argued. "No sex, baby. Not till later."

Roman groaned, burying his head in the crook of my neck. "Why'd you get my hopes up like that?"

"Oh babe, it doesn't feel like it's your hopes I got up," I giggled, pushing him off me.

"Guilty as charged," he chuckled, crossing his arms behind his head and lounging back in bed.

"Well I'm sure you'll find a way to take care of that yourself while I take a shower," I said unapologetically. I leaned over to kiss him on the cheek and climbed out of bed, stretching my arms over my head and yawning.

"Need a hand with washing?" he asked cheekily.

"I'll make sure to call you if I get in trouble," I said, wiggling my ass at him as I walked before pausing in the bathroom doorway, turning around to wink at him.

Once shut in the bathroom, I switched on the shower to heat up the water before turning to the mirror. I almost screamed. Holy fuck, I was a wreck. Seeing myself from long range in the bedroom hadn't done me justice. I really did look a fucking state, even worse than I initially thought. Straight up, I looked like I'd been dragged through a hedge backwards. _How_ Roman could possibly consider having sex with me while I looked like this was beyond me.

 _Maybe he hit his head yesterday and now he's a little concussed_ , I thought with a small laugh, stripping out of my pyjamas and stepping under the hot shower spray.

It felt so nice to scrub all the tears from last night and this morning from my skin. It was like I was washing the memory away. Granted, I still didn't feel 100% normal and the chances were I'd be a lot more prone to violent outbursts today. Hopefully I wouldn't stray too far from Roman since it seemed like he was the only one who could calm me down.

About twenty minutes later, I walked back into the room wrapped in a towel, my damp hair trailing over my shoulders. Roman was still in bed, looking innocent as innocent could be. He was watching the TV, the sheets settled across his legs up to the waist. Nothing out of the ordinary. Except…nope. I couldn't help but notice that another article of clothing had joined the pile of clothes he'd left beside the bed last night; his Calvin Klein boxers now rested on top.

I quirked a brow at him. "Are you naked?"

He shrugged. "Maybe."

"My God, man, you are relentless," I giggled with a shake of my head.

"I've got a beautiful girlfriend, she has this effect on me."

My smile grew and I slowly sauntered over to the bed, my hands holding the towel to my body. "Then she must be a very lucky girl. I bet she's sweet, loving, adorable and not even remotely psychotic."

"I don't know. I just found out she screams in her sleep and she's also handed me my ass on more than one occasion. She's kinda scary." He smirked when I reached the bed, reaching forward to try to tug off the towel, but I stepped back just out of reach. He flopped back into the pillows with a groan. "Sav!"

"Aw, sounds like you're getting frustrated, Ro." I began to crawl my way up the bed, brushing my hands over his legs at random intervals before straddling him, leaving my towel on.

Letting out another groan, Roman leaned forward to cup my face in his hands, leaning his forehead on mine. "You're gonna be the death of me."

"What, me? How could you imply such a thing?" I smirked, closing the space between our lips and finally allowing him to kiss me. He moved his hands to rest on my waist as I ran my fingers through his hair.

"Change of heart?" Roman murmured against my lips.

"I've been thinking about this all morning, I just wanted to make you squirm," I giggled, nipping his bottom lip with my teeth. "Abstinence has never been my strong point." I went to undo my towel…just as my cell phone began to ring. "Are you fucking kidding me?" I climbed off Roman and hitched the towel tighter instead, grabbing the phone from on top of the dresser.

"This really is not my morning," Roman muttered behind me.

"At least you didn't wake up screaming," I retorted while I checked the caller ID.

 _ **-Incoming Call-  
Dean Ambrose**_

"You better have a damn good reason for calling me."

"Why, what other important shit could you possibly be doing right now?" Dean demanded. "Good morning to you too, by the way."

"I…um…I was asleep," I said quickly. Jesus H Christ, I was not being subtle about the me-and-Roman situation at all. "Anyway, what's up?"

"Just doing the caring brother thing and checking you're okay after last night," he said.

"Yeah. Yeah, I…I'm fine," I mumbled. "Didn't sleep too great but that was to be expected."

"You start screaming again?" he asked, sounding as close to sympathetic as Dean could get.

"I'm surprised you remembered that."

"How many times did I have to sit up at three in the morning with you because you'd practically had a seizure in your sleep?" he said. "Also, while we're talking, before you start hearing shit from other people, yeah, I may or may not have punched your dad in the face."

"You what?!" I shrieked, almost dropping the phone. "Dean!"

"What?!" he said defensively. "You were a fucking wreck because of him and he kept running his mouth about how he 'demanded' I take him back to see you. He was getting on my nerves, so yeah, I decked him. Felt pretty good too."

"Dean!" I repeated. "You fucking idiot, he'll probably press charges!"

"Nah, he's got no witnesses. The security guy pretended to look away."

I sighed heavily. "I can't believe I'm gonna say this, but thank you. I just…I can't believe he showed up after all this time."

"Forget that motherfucker, Sav. Forget what he said, forget what he did."

"Yeah, well, I've always been good at forgetting the shitty way the men in my life treat me." I couldn't help myself; every time I thought of Dean and I's relationship I had to dig at him about it. It was at the moment I felt Roman come up behind me. His hands settled on my hips as he placed a soft kiss on my pulse point. Against my better judgement, I let out an audible gasp which Dean picked up on.

"You okay there, Rosie?"

"I stubbed my toe," I said hastily, struggling to form a coherent sentence as Roman slid his hands over my hips and up under my towel, skimming over my thighs whilst continuing his assault on my neck. "I need to go and…ice it. Yeah, that's it. I'll meet you guys in the parking lot at twelve, okay? We can't leave any later."

"You're clumsy as fuck, girl," he laughed. "See you later." He clicked off and I dumped my cell back on the dresser, turning around to face Roman.

"You are an evil, evil man," I gasped out as his fingers found my clit and he slowly began to push two inside me.

"I'm not doing anything," he said sweetly.

"You son of a bitch." I gently pushed him back from me, making him withdraw his fingers, and shoved him down on the bed.

"What are you doing?" he questioned, raising a brow at me.

"You've been so patient, baby," I cooed, dropping my towel. "It's only fair I make it up to you. And I can only think of one way to kill the next couple of hours."

"Mmm?" Roman raked his eyes appreciatively over my body as I stepped forward, lowering myself down to straddle him, lacing my hands behind his neck. "And what would that be, baby girl?"

"Take a guess," I whispered, pressing my lips to his.

* * *

"Oh my God, this is too good," I chuckled, looking at the match-up list taped to the wall in the main backstage area of the Philips Arena. After making the four hour drive to Atlanta and being forced by the guys to drive, I refused to sit down. My legs were stiff as anything so in an attempt to get some feeling back in them I'd been doing laps of the arena, ending up here. It was dead; most of the roster were either in Wardrobe, Hair and Makeup or doing what I had and wandering around the building. It was just me. Well, me and my recently acquired plus one.

"What are you laughing at?" Roman questioned, coming up behind me with a bag of Funyuns in his hand.

"Ew, how can you eat those?" I protested, wrinkling my nose in disgust. "You better chew some gum before you even consider kissing me."

Tipping the last remnants of the chips into his mouth, Roman scrunched up the bag and tossed it into the trash can before grinning at me. "What, you don't like onion?"

"Not when I'm tasting it on my boyfriend's tongue," I retorted. "Secondhand onion probably isn't really to my taste."

"Why not test that theory?" he suggested, grinning impishly for a moment before making a kissy face at me.

"You overgrown man-child," I laughed, but I did tiptoe up to place a kiss on his cheek. "Anyway, before we got sidetracked, I was laughing at this." I pointed to the match list. "Look at this. Savannah Jordan versus Summer Rae. I bet that little blonde bitch thought she'd gotten away with what she said to me on the flight to London because of this True Divas/Total Divas shit. I'm gonna fucking annihilate her."

"Baby girl, you know I'm all for you tearing that lying bitch apart but if you do, won't you be a teammate down?" Roman pointed out.

I shook my head. "Actually, we're a woman up and AJ and I have been trying to decide who we don't need. It was probably gonna be Rosa but I'd really rather have her on the team than play besties with Rae. If anything, this is my opportunity to take her out of the equation quite nicely."

"You're an angry lil' thing, aren't you?"

"You have got nooo idea."

"It's kinda cute," he said with a grin, leaning in to kiss me but I turned my head at the last second so he only got my cheek. "Why would you do that?"

"I told you, I don't want your gross, onion-y tongue in my mouth!"

"How about in other places?" Cue suggestive eyebrow wiggle

"How about I pull it out of your mouth?" I said sweetly.

"Damn, baby girl, you are savage," he snorted.

"Didn't anybody warn you?" I grinned at him and took a sip of the can of Dr Pepper I'd been nursing for the last fifteen minutes.

"I'd heard it from one or two people," he replied, hooking his finger under the strap of my denim dungarees. "You look adorable today, by the way."

"You're right, Eminem is just the cutest," I snorted, gesturing at the t-shirt I had on underneath.

"I was actually thinking more about these." His hand trailed down my side, gliding past the end of the shorts and resting on my bare thigh between the shorts and the top of my thigh-high sock. "Mind leaving these on tonight?"

"Why, you got some kinda schoolgirl fetish, Mr Reigns?"

"I do now." He moved his hand up to rest on my ass and pulled me flush against him. "Then again," he murmured, nuzzling into my neck. "We could always take a little break now."

"Don't tempt me," I purred, lulling my head backwards. That was when we heard voices drawing closer. Loud, annoyed and obnoxious. We quickly sprang apart and sat down at the nearest table, pretending to engage in small talk.

"...they _insane_?! Like hell am I having a match against that psycho bitch!" Summer Rae wailed as she and Fandango walked into view. The second she clocked me, her face furrowed into an irate scowl. "Urgh."

"Hey Summer," I smirked, waggling my fingers at her. "Talking about our match there?"

"You've got a lot of nerve, Jordan," she spat out.

"What, you're blaming _me_ for this?" I said innocently, placing my hand over my heart. "Summer, be serious. You know us mere Divas have no control over the match-ups."

"Well isn't it so convenient that this is happening when we all know you and AJ are trying to work out who to cut from Survivor Series," she snarled. " _And_ it's so obvious you still haven't got over our little conversation on the way to England last week. Hi there, Roman." She turned all sickly sweet for that last part, pouting her over-glossed lips at him. He just stared expressionlessly back at her. Despite his lack of response, my blood began to boil but I managed to reign my temper in before I exploded.

"Pure class when your boyfriend is standing right next to you, Rae," I snapped, standing up so suddenly that the chair scraped loudly along the floor. "Oh wait, that's right. He doesn't want you like that. How painful it must be to be friendzoned by the biggest man-whore in the company."

"Fandango doesn't appreciate being spoken about like he's not here," Fandango exclaimed.

"Yeah, well Savannah doesn't appreciate it when douchebags talk about themselves in third person," I retorted. "For God's sake, Johnny, knock it off. You used to be tolerable in developmental."

Fandango's face turned an interesting shade of red; he hated being reminded of his real name, Johnny Curtis. What I assumed was too many bumps to the head had caused him to believe he was a ballroom dancer with the world's stupidest name. "No one here is called Johnny."

"Oh, whatever. I don't have time for this shit." I turned my attention back to Summer. "I was gonna go easy on you but after that little comment, you can kiss goodbye to any drop of compassion I felt. I am _not_ in the mood for your – or anyone else's – bullshit fuckery."

"I'm terrified," Summer tried to say sarcastically, though the way her voice caught told me she truly was. "You don't scare me, Savannah. I've got backup; I don't go anywhere without Fandango. What do you think about _that_?"

"I think you're forgetting something." That didn't come from me. Instead, Roman had also stood up, making this the first time he'd properly acknowledged Summer's presence. The way he positioned himself allowed him to place a comforting hand on the small of my back without Summer or Fandango noticing. His touch immediately calmed me enough to stop me from starting a fight here and now, but I was still fuming with anger.

"Oh? And what might that be, Roman?" Summer simpered.

"That Sav doesn't go anywhere without us," he growled. "And if you really think we're intimidated by that-" he pointed at Fandango. "-sparkly little cupcake then you've got another thing coming."

"How dare you!" Summer shrieked, flinging her arms around Fandango's waist. "Don't listen to him, sweetie, you know you can beat The Shield."

"Y-yeah. Fandango c-can out-dance any of y-you…" Fandango stuttered, the colour rapidly draining from his fake tanned face.

"More like Fandango's gonna get his ass beat," I snorted.

"Is that a threat?" Summer barked.

"Nope. It's a promise," I shot back. "No tea, no shade, baby, but your 'man' looks like he shits himself whenever someone raises a fist at him."

"We'll see, Savannah. We'll. See," she said through gritted teeth. "Come on, Fandango. We don't need to waste anymore time on these simpletons. Let's go."

"See you in the ring, honey!" I called after her as the two of them flounced out of the corridor. The second we were sure they were out of earshot, Roman and I burst out laughing, Roman wrapping his arms around me and snuggling me into him.

"You handled that well," he said.

"As well as I could," I muttered, pressing my face into his chest. "I could have killed her then and there for what she said to you."

"Save it for the ring," he told me, kissing the top of my head. "And make sure Rosa doesn't have any plans for Sunday night. I think you'll need her."

* * *

 _Sierra. Hotel. India. Echo. Lima. Delta._

"The following match is a Divas match, scheduled for one fall! Making her way to the ring accompanied by The Shield, from Dallas, Texas: _Savannah Jordan_!"

The four of us made our way down the stairs with me leading, Dean behind me then Seth and Roman behind him. I wasn't even smiling; I was ready to kill this fucking bitch and tear her limbs straight out of the sockets. I was in a foul enough mood from last night's encounter with my estranged father, and though earlier Roman had managed to keep my temper simmered, Summer had well and truly stoked it.

Clearing the barrier with a handspring, I rolled into the ring and stood in the centre with my arms crossed, glaring up the ramp. Roman, Dean and Seth remained on the outside, circling around the ring and also staring up the ramp. Man, I hoped Fandango didn't try to get involved or else he was gonna end up with a snapped tibia. We didn't have much allotted time for this match; a mere four minutes before the boys had their match against the Usos and Rey Mysterio. That was fine; I planned on running over that bitch like a train in a matter of seconds if it went my way.

Our music died down and seconds later that fucking annoying 'ChaLaLa' sound started playing around the arena, and Summer burst through the shimmery curtain at the top of the ramp. She started twirling around doing that annoying dance of hers, and Fandango soon joined her.

"And her opponent! Being accompanied by Fandango, from Raleigh, North Carolina: _Summer Rae_!"

My face remained in the same bored, unimpressed expression the entire time the two of them spent dancing their way down to the ring. Still, I backed into my corner and leaned back against the ropes, counting down the seconds till the bell rung. Climbing into the ring, Summer tried to shoot me a look of cockiness, but I could see the fear in her eyes. She knew I was gonna not only knock her out of Survivor Series, but knock her out period.

The bell rung, and Summer immediately tried to stall the match by starting to dance again, this time literally _at_ me. Fandango was standing by the apron, shouting encouraging remarks about her 'rhythm' and 'poise' and…well, he didn't get to finish that last one. The second I realised what was going on, I turned to the boys and not-so-subtly nodded once in Fandango's direction. The three of them nodded back and stalked their way around to where Fandango was standing.

Summer abruptly stopped spazzing around when she saw Dean, Roman and Seth slowly advancing on Fandango, all three of them with malicious, predatory looks directed at the dancer. "What are you- Stop! Stop, don't!" she shrieked, clinging to the top rope and shaking it in panic. "Leave him _alone_!"

"I recommend not watching this, sweetheart," Dean advised her, and in the next second he rammed his forearm into Fandango's face, blindsiding him. Summer let out an enraged scream as Seth then joined in the fun, he and Dean pelting Fandango with kicks to keep him on the floor.

"Get away from him!" Summer howled, her knuckles white from gripping the top rope so hard. "Get _away_!"

"But Summer," I said innocently, leaning on the ropes next to her with a smirk. "I thought you were so sure Fandango could beat my boys?"

"You bitch!" she spat at me, tears streaming down her face. "Call them off him!"

"You heard her, boys!" I called to them. "Get him up!"

"Should have stayed behind, 'Dango!" Seth taunted as he and Dean wrapped their hands around Fandango's upper arms and hauled him to his feet.

"No! No, no, no, please!" Summer pleaded. "Let him go! What are you doing?!" She turned back to me. "What are they doing?!"

I ignored her. Instead..."LET ME HEAR YOUR WAR CRY!" I screamed, signaling it was time. Roman called for it by letting out his roar and gesturing at Seth and Dean to lift up Fandango. They did, placing him on Roman's shoulders and three, two, one…

"NOOOO!" Summer cried as she watched Fandango get Triple Powerbombed straight down onto the cold, hard, unforgiving floor.

I tapped her on the shoulder to get her to turn around. "Your turn now, bitch," I snarled, slapping her so hard I felt her teeth cut into the side of her mouth where my hand connected. She didn't respond to the hit too violently, so I rammed my head forward and headbutted her straight on the nose. She reeled backwards clutching her face, and I followed up by lunging at her and jumping, jamming my foot into her gut while I twisted the other one up to catch the side of her head with an Enzuigiri.

The second she dropped to the floor I took inspiration from my brothers and began to repeatedly kick her in the ribs, and soon the kicks turned to just stamping. Summer kept trying to curl into a protective fetal position but every time she tried I kicked her arms or her knees to prevent her from doing so. I soon grew bored though. Seizing her by the hair, I dragged her back to the feet and into the corner of the ring, ignoring the ref's warning to get off her hair.

Summer was barely conscious, her body stumbling and left eye half swelled shut. Good. She deserved all this and so much more. They all did. Every single person in my life who had tormented me, told me I wasn't good enough and mocked me. I climbed to the second rope with my arm wrapped around Summer's neck. It was time to end this.

I jumped and twisted my body to make sure Summer's head cracked against the canvas. It was one of the most brutal non-weaponised Southern Belles I had ever executed, and I was glad Rae was on the receiving end. I covered her body with mine and pulled her leg up. A count of three later, and it was all over.

The Shield theme played out over the sound of the cheering crowd as the ref raised my hand as Justin Roberts declared, "The winner of this match: _Savannah Jordan_!" I couldn't even smile at my victory, my mood preventing me from enjoying the brutality I had inflicted. I needed to do it; I _needed_ to prove that I would never stand down to someone who thought they were above me. Championship or no championship, I was the best Diva in this company and _no one_ would tell me otherwise.

Summer started to stir at my feet, but all she could do was muster enough energy and strength to roll around and eventually fall out of the ring. That, I did crack a smile at. Seth, Dean and Roman joined me in the ring, Seth pulling my hand out of the ref's and holding it up himself. "That's why we're the best!" he shouted at the crowd, who were equally matched in the boos and cheers raining down. Dean then held his fist out to the three of us. I removed my hand from Seth's and scrunched it into a fist, placing it against Dean's. Roman and Seth followed, and the three of us chorused, "Believe in The Shield!"

That was when our music was abruptly cut off, only to be replaced with a far more upbeat, irritating track that I'd been blocking from my memory ever since I'd first heard it in July.

 _I'm back, back, back on top of the world.  
I'm back, back, back on top of the world.  
Yeah, I'm back, back, back on top of the world.  
Of the world…  
Ain't gonna stop me now!_

One by one, each cast member of _Total Divas_ filtered their way onto the top of the ramp by the titantron. Nikki, Brie, Eva Marie, Cameron, JoJo. Nattie and Naomi followed them, though even from here I could see they didn't look happy.

"Well, well, well. Congratulations, Savannah! Another win under your belt," Nikki twittered, microphone raised to her glossed lips. "You're just _so talented_ , aren't you?" Sarcasm dripped from every syllable.

I moved to the side of the ring and gestured to a ringside technician to hand me my own mic. "I wouldn't call it 'talented' as such," I said, falsely modest. I paused for a second. "No, actually I would. What, you idiots have come out here to comment on the fact I've kicked yet another one of your Barbie asses? Somehow I doubt that's all you have to say."

"You're such a smart mouth, Savannah." That came from Brie. "One day it's gonna get you into trouble."

"What, with you?" I snorted. "I'm shakin' in my boots." A little bit of Texan drawl slipped out then; the first sign I was beginning to lose my shit. "Is there a reason you're all out here boring me to death? Because if there is, can we get on with it? You're holding up my boys' match." The three of them were stood behind me. They had my back. They'd always have my back.

"Funny how you're suddenly so cocky with your 'boys' here." Nikki again. "You'd never have the nerve to do half of the things you do without them by your side. That or blindsiding us after an innocent game like last night!"

"I mean, how dare you!" Back to Brie. "Leave it to you to take something fun and turn it into something all about _you_! You never would have had the nerve to pull something like that if we'd been paying attention!"

I yawned loudly and obviously. "Bitch please, I've put down gophers stronger than you lot."

"Yee-haw!" Nikki taunted. "Here we go, having to remind everyone that you come from such a _humble_ upbringing. Lil' cowgirl Savannah, why don't you do us all a favour and go running back home to Mommy and Daddy in Texas. Oh. Wait. Slight problem there."

Mommy and Daddy. Mommy and Daddy. This plastic whore thought she had the right to bring up my family?! It would have been a low blow on any day, but after what I'd been through yesterday…I snapped.

I gripped my mic so hard I could feel the plastic buckling, pure anger flooding through me. Every pent up emotion I felt had bubbled over: the fury from last night's confrontation with my dad, the feelings of emptiness and terror brought on from my nightmare, frustration at hiding my relationship with Roman - even though it was my idea to do so - and I refused to hold them in any longer.

"You know what, Bella? I'm done listenin' to you talk. It's my turn now," I bit out, the Texan accent just flowing out of me now. "The problem with all of you standin' there is that you all think you're absolutely _it_ now that your faces are plastered across the E! Network every week. Well how's this for a reality check: NO ONE CARES! What's the point in showcasin' your lives when next to no one gives a crap?! No one cares about the fact John will never marry you, Nikki! No one cares about Eva and JoJo's 'struggles' as the newbies, no one cares about Brie's attempt at turnin' everyone around her into herbivores, no one cares about any of it! God, I can't believe I'm admittin' this but AJ was right! You're all a bunch of…what were the words? Oh yeah, cheap, interchangeable, expendable, useless women! You wanna come out here and call _me_ cocky? At least I've got reason to be! Every week I come out here and prove to the WWE Universe why I'm the best at what I do! That's right, the _best_! I don't need AJ's Championship to rule the Divas Division. How do I know that? Because you are all _terrified_ of gettin' into this ring with me and bein' forced to try to back yourselves up!"

I paused to let any of them even dare to contradict me. "See! SEE! You won't even argue because you know I'm right! I am DONE with all of you swannin' around like you own the place just because _Total Divas_ has suddenly supposedly made you household names, because FYI, it hasn't. You are the laughin' stocks of the WWE locker room but your heads are so far up your own asses that you can't see that! You wanna know why I attacked you yesterday, girls? To remind all of you that regardless of your names and statuses, I am and always will be above you, and I will _always_ be the leader of our division. I have proven time and time again that I am the _only_ woman in this company who's worth anythin'. I am the most heartless Diva in the game. Nothin' scares me, especially not you wannabe talentless reality _bitches_ ," I spat. And with that, I threw my microphone down to the ground and rolled straight out of the ring. The Shield's music began blaring out again as I stormed up the ramp and shoved my way through the group of shell-shocked women gathered on the stage, emerging through the curtains and into the gorilla area.

"Savannah! Savannah, can I get a quick word?" Renee started to hurry after me as I stomped my way through the backstage area, so angry I truly thought there was a chance smoke was curling out of my ears.

"Renee, not now," I grit out, continuing to walk, but she grabbed my arm to stop me and shoved another microphone in my face.

"Savannah, you just cut what is now the second bomb on the _Total Divas_ cast, the first being dropped in August by AJ Lee" she said, ignoring me. God, I hated when she was in interview mode. "What caused you to go off like that?"

"I'm really not in the mood to play CNN, Renee!" I snapped, jerking my arm out of her grip and storming away. I had never been more grateful that I had three days off after today. I would be flying back to Sanford tonight. I needed to cool off. Just me, my dog and the sunshine.

* * *

 _ **~ The Next Day ~  
~ Wednesday 20**_ _ **th**_ _ **November 2013 ~  
~ Sanford, FL. ~**_

* * *

70 degrees. Late afternoon. The sun beating down on my bare shoulders. Robin on his lead running alongside me as I skated down the street. Beats on my ears playing my favourite tunes. I was finally, for the first time all week, relaxing.

 _I ask, cause I'm not sure,  
_ _Do anybody make real shit anymore?  
_ _Bow in the presence of greatness,  
_ _'Cause right now thou hast forsaken us.  
_ _You should be honored by my lateness,  
_ _That I would even show up to this fake shit,  
_ _So go ahead, go nuts, go apeshit._

I was listening to Kanye West's _Stronger_ , iPhone clipped to the waistband of my Micheal Myers leggings. I never bothered with tight jeans when I was home, nearly always opting for leggings or workout clothes. Today's look was the leggings, my hair up in a French braid wrapped around my head, a Dallas Cowboys racerback and black Vans since they were the best shoes to grip my skateboard with.

Along with playing basketball, skateboarding was one of my favourite pastimes. It had been right from when I was about twelve or thirteen. I was no Tony Hawk, but I could pull a few good tricks. It was easy. However, skateboarding back from the corner shop with a carton of milk, two bottles of orange juice and a tin of coffee in my Stitch backpack…not as easy. It got even more difficult making sure Robin's lead didn't get tangled in the wheels.

As soon as we turned into Song Sparrow Court and my house came into view, I shoved my foot down to stop the board and hopped off, unclipping Robin's lead from his collar. "Go on baby, run home." He just looked at me, head cocked to the side. I sighed. "Run home and I'll give you a treat." Now that was a word he understood. With an excited, "Arf!" Robin took off down the path, heading straight for the house.

"Stupid dog," I muttered to myself, wrapping the lead around my hand and wrist before pushing back off, flipping the board up and hitting a grind along the nearest house's low wall. Yes, okay, I'd accepted I had the hobbies of a teenage boy a very long time ago. By the time I was skating up the drive, Robin was pawing at the front door, desperate to get in. I hopped off the board and let it keep rolling until it hit the closed garage doors, pulling my backpack off and rummaging around until I found my keys. "Okay, Robin, in you get," I said with a smile as I pushed open the door, waiting for him to hop over the step before following him in. I dumped my keys on an end table in the living room before heading through to the kitchen. Naturally that was where I found Robin, standing up on his back legs with his front paws resting on the cupboard I kept his food in.

"I got you, baby, don't you worry," I told him, placing my backpack on the island counter and crouching down next to him, giving him a kiss before opening the cupboard and pulling out the bag of True Chews dog jerky. "Here we go. Jerky for Robin." I gave him another kiss before setting a handful of the jerky on the floor.

Clearly all I'd needed was some time off. WWE had had the roster work non-stop over the last week, meaning this was my first real time off since we'd returned from England. Being overworked apparently didn't sit well with my mental health. Still, it wasn't like I remotely regretted anything I'd said at the SmackDown taping. Every single last word had been true, and they knew it. Everyone knew it.

After packing away the few groceries I had in my backpack, I retied my Vans, filled up my water bottle and headed through to the garage, grabbing my pink and purple basketball. I pressed the button by the wall that opened the garage door and emerged back into the sunshine, deciding to shoot a few hoops before it got dark. My front yard had lights that sensed when it was becoming dusk, so I figured those coming on would be the time to retreat inside for the night.

I was out there for a good couple of hours, the first of which I spent alone but then decided to let Robin out with me, trusting that he wouldn't run off. He was well behaved for a 10-month-old puppy, all things considered, so he stayed put, chasing his tail around and running after the basketball whenever I missed a lay-up.

After another half an hour I paused, tucking the basketball under one arm and wiping my sweaty forehead with the back of my other hand. The sky was now changing from bright blue to a gorgeous dusty pinkish-orange. I really needed to start thinking about making myself some dinner. Pizza sounded good right about now.

A set of arms suddenly snaked around my waist, making me shriek and drop the basketball, which bounced six foot away. "You've got great ball control, baby girl," Roman's voice murmured in my ear, pulling me flush against his chest.

"Mmm?" I turned my head back to place a kiss on his bearded jaw. "I would have thought you worked that out on Sunday night…and Monday morning…and Tuesday morning…" I let out a giggling squeal as Roman whipped me around, pulling me into a scorching kiss. My hands flew to his shoulders, holding him close to me.

"What are you doing here?" I asked breathlessly when we broke apart.

"Well, I was sitting on the flight back to Pensacola when I realised that I still haven't taken you on a real date yet." Roman's hands rested on my waist, his thumbs tracing circles on my hips. "So as soon as I landed, I went home, packed a few things then got straight back on a plane to Orlando. An Uber ride later…here I am. And I'm not going anywhere anytime soon." He let go of me and turned around to gesture at the two overnight bags and a wicker picnic hamper lying in my driveway.

"Wait, you got an Uber here? How the fuck did I miss the sound of a car pulling up and driving away?" I questioned, more to myself than anything else.

"You seemed very in the zone. I didn't know you played basketball." Roman looked down at me quizzically.

"Oh yeah, I've always been big on the game. I was captain of the girl's basketball at my first high school. At least, I was until I got kicked off the team in ninth grade after things went to shit. I was shooting guard," I told him. "I swear I must have told you this."

Roman shook his head. "Nope, pretty sure I've never heard you mention this. Why'd you get kicked off the team, anyway?"

"Er, I er, well, I…I bit one of the other girls on the team for getting in my way," I admitted guiltily. "Not important. Tell me all about this date you've got planned!" Our first date…butterflies erupted in my stomach.

Roman grinned at me. "It's a surprise. I'll tell you two things. One, I need to borrow your car. Two, go get changed into something you'd wear to the beach."

"Way to give the game away."

"Not exactly." He placed a finger underneath my chin and tipped my head up to give me a soft kiss which I happily accepted. "Get changed. I'll wait for you in the living room."

"Okay." I smiled at him and turned around, heading back into the house. Once upstairs, I practically upended my closet to find something appropriate to wear. Something I'd wear to the beach…so was that where we were going? It was the only thing that made sense. But this close to it getting dark? I was missing something here.

First things first, this _was_ a date. Dates only ended in one way (I hoped) so I stripped out of everything I had on and pulled on a matching black and grey lace bra and panties set from Agent Provocateur. In a bid to keep everything else casual, I dressed in ripped jean shorts, a cropped A Day To Remember vest and had multicoloured Havaiana flip-flops on my feet. I then slipped a tropical-print kimono around my shoulders since there was a chance the temperature would start to drop. In terms of hair and makeup, I quickly slapped on some foundation, eyeliner and clear gloss before untying my hair, brushing it and rewinding it back around my head in its braid. There. How To Get Ready For a Date In Less Than 15 Minutes by Sav Jordan.

"I'm ready!" I called as I hurried down the stairs, not wanting to keep Ro waiting any longer. He was sat on the couch and turned around when he heard me.

"You look gorgeous," he said, standing up and walking around to the foot of the stairs, holding his hand out to me. "Ready to go?"

"Absolutely," I said softly, taking his hand and lacing our fingers together.

* * *

"Okay, so what's your favourite colour?"

"Easy, purple. And red. And black. But mostly purple. Yours?"

"I'd say a dark blue."

"Okay, my turn. When you were younger, what did you wanna be when you grew up? Have you always wanted to be a wrestler?"

"Nah, I was actually gonna play football. I was a defensive tackle All through college I played for the Georgia Tech Yellow Jackets, then had a few off-season games with the Minnesota Vikings and the Jacksonville Jaguars. It wasn't until 2008 that I realised I wanted to follow in the family's footsteps and become a wrestler."

"Football player, huh? So that explains why you like to get a little rough sometimes."

"Um, don't start throwing _that_ around, Miss Vampire. I've still got teeth marks on my shoulder from yesterday."

"...What's your point?"

I'd never been on a more romantic date in my life. Roman had driven us down to Lake Monroe, a gorgeous natural lake just twenty minutes away from my house. When we arrived, he told me to wait in the car while he 'sorted something out.' All he'd been holding was that wicker picnic hamper. When he came back fifteen minutes later, he took me by the hand and led me down to the sandy shore, where I saw a picnic blanket set out, surrounded by a few candles and covered in sandwiches, antipasti, cupcakes and a two bottles of red wine. It was…perfect.

We sat down, we ate, we chatted, we kissed and we laughed. It was like every worry I had in the world just melted away. It was just the two of us in our own little loved up bubble, and nothing else mattered. That was what brought us to now, nearing on 9PM, the sun going down and the two of us laying on the blanket, looking at the sunset over the water. We'd realised that we didn't know a whole lot of personal things about each other, so had decided to ask each other every question under the sun we could think of, nothing off limits. I loved that Roman listened to me, that he cared about me enough to listen to me prattle on about my first crush (Flynn Carter, preacher's son, second grade), my favourite memory of my mom (the first time we went riding together when I was 8, at the local riding stables) and what my favourite subject was in elementary/middle school.

"God, these questions are so predictable!" I lightly teased, giving Roman a slight shove on the shoulder. "Pull one out of the bag!"

"Okay, fine. Any hidden talents?" he shot at me.

I paused for a second, then clicked my fingers. "I might not be able to sing, but I'm fucking dope at rapping."

"You are not," Roman said skeptically.

"Oh, a non-believer. I see how it is. Observe." I cleared my throat, grinned at him, then…

" _Have you ever been hated or discriminated against?  
_ _I have; I've been protested and demonstrated against.  
_ _Picket signs for my wicked rhymes, look at the times,  
_ _Sick as the mind of the motherfuckin' kid that's behind,  
_ _All this commotion, emotions run deep as oceans explodin'.  
_ _Tempers flarin' from parents, just blow 'em off and keep goin',  
_ _Not takin' nothin' from no one, give 'em hell 'long as I'm breathin'.  
_ _Keep kickin' ass in the mornin' and takin' names in the evenin',  
_ _Leave 'em with a taste as sour as vinegar in they mouth,  
_ _See they can trigger me, but they'll never figure me out.  
_ _Look at me now; I bet ya probably sick of me now,  
_ _Ain't you, Daddy?  
_ _I'mma make you look so ridiculous now._

 _I'm sorry Daddy,  
_ _I never meant to hurt you.  
_ _I never meant to make you cry, but tonight,  
_ _I'm cleanin' out my closet._ "

A few seconds of silence, then Roman blew out, "Shit, baby girl. That was impressive. What was that?"

"Eminem, _Cleanin' Out My Closet_. I changed it a little to fit it to me."

"Anything else you've been hiding from me?"

"I can skateboard."

"Well that explains why there was one in your driveway."

I laughed. "Big clue, that. But oh yeah, I got into it in high school on the off-chance wrestling didn't work out for me."

Roman leaned up on his elbow to look at me, his other hand reaching out to brush back a strand of hair that had escaped from my braid. "You couldn't be less of a normal girl, could you."

I shrugged, rolling to my side to face him, tracing my fingers over his tattooed arm. "Normal people scare me. I'd rather be different than a carbon copy of everyone else."

"I knew there was a reason I was falling for you," Roman murmured, running his fingertips over my cheek.

"You're falling for me?" I breathed out. He nodded wordlessly. "I'm falling for you too, Roman." No other words were shared between us after that. The two of us moved simultaneously, our lips joining together and tongues dancing. We rolled so that Roman hovered above me, my hands tangling in his hair. His hand moved down my body until they came into contact with the zip of my shorts. He pulled the zip down and broke his lips from mine to move back, allowing me to angle my hips up so he could remove my shorts.

I sat up and shrugged out of my kimono, my tank top following me and leaving me in my matching underwear. "You are so beautiful," Roman murmured, removing his t-shirt before capturing my lips again. I slid my hands down his bare chest and kept going, palming his hard cock through his shorts. A groan escaped him and he slipped his hand into my panties, running a finger over my slit.

"So wet," he growled against my mouth. "Are you ready, baby girl?"

"Take me, Roman," I begged, and in record time Roman had removed his shorts and boxers, a gasp leaving my lips as he began to inch his way inside me.

This time was different. We weren't just screwing, fucking, whatever you wanted to call it like every other time we'd had sex. There, on the shore of Lake Monroe, Roman and I made love for the first time. It was gentle, it was passionate, it was loving, and when we came, we came together, crying each others' names.

We were falling for each other. After such a short amount of time, I was allowing myself to fall in love with Roman. I was so scared of these feelings consuming me again. Being in love, it had ended in the worst way for me last time. But this wasn't last time. It was new, and it was…exciting. It would be okay. Everything would be okay.

* * *

 **A/N - I can only apologise for how long it's taken for me to update. Sometimes life goes a bit cray. I recently got promoted at work so a lot of my time and energy has gone into my new hours and training. I like to think next update will be quicker than this one. So please, favourite/follow/review! It means the world to me! Love you all! Xx Gee xX**

 **PS - Make sure to check out my Polyvore collection (zombies-and-harlequins) and my YouTube playlist (linked on my profile)**

 _ **Songs for Chapter Seventeen:**_

 **DJ Boonie - Daddy's Little Girl  
** **A Day To Remember - Naivety  
** **Phi Phi O'Hara - Bitchy  
** **Kanye West - Stronger  
** **Dua Lipa - Blow Your Mind (Mwah)  
Eminem - Cleaning Out My Closet  
** **A Day To Remember - You Had Me at Hello**


End file.
